


Past the End of the Line

by xWitchAlchemistx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xWitchAlchemistx/pseuds/xWitchAlchemistx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shield has been disbanded and the team has gone their separate ways. After months of searching, Steve has finally found Bucky. But the Winter Soldier isn't ready to say 'die' and an attempt to heal Bucky's damaged mind results in unexpected consequences. With a new villain on the scene and a child-sized Winter Soldier, Captain America's going to need a hand to save the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lost Winter

**So. I saw Captain America 2...FINALLY. And although I'm really on the Loki/Thor feels right now...I need some Steve/Bucky in my life too. [I knew this would happen]. We'll see where this story goes and who pops in. [Expect Stark and Banner, at least XD] And yeah...I had to touch on -that- line for the title.  XD  And for now...enjoy!**

**~ ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

_"What's the point in going, Buck?  No one's gonna ask me to dance, and I don't know how anyway."_

_A laugh. "Well, yeah, with that attitude. Besides, dancin's easy. I'll show ya." "_

_H-Hey! Don't just grab me-"_

_The laughter continued. "-Shut up and follow my lead."_

A sharp intake of breath followed another painful mental assault. Flickers of memories filtered through a brain which, following it's initial damage in the winter tundra years ago, had been tampered with and damaged repeatedly. The memories were a blur; some were clearer than others, some seemed like silent pictures, while others were just echoes of conversations and flickers of emotions that he couldn't understand.

_"Please! Please, don't hurt her. I'll do anything, I'll give you anything. Just not my little girl." A man sobbed, and the child in his arms cried._

_But the mission was clear. The ambassador, the wife who carried his son, and his daughter. All targets that needed to be taken out._

_The Winter Soldier didn't waste breath with a reply, he simply finished his job. He didn't think twice about the little girl's screams, as he hadn't with so many others._

There was a faint moan, and the a grunt as a man slammed his head against the nearest wall. "Stop it...stop it....stop it!"

_"No...this is...this is wrong...what...what have you done to me? No! I won't, stay away-"_

_"Fry him, then put him back on ice. He's been out too long." "_

_What a pain...too long out and he becomes so unstable...still, he'll last longer this way. And we can always shock the memories out of him."_

A clenched fist drug along the wall until the knuckles bled, before it opened as fingers dragged down idly. "No more." he whispered.

_Captain America, wounded and exhausted, looked the Winter Soldier in the face without fear or disgust. He smiled faintly. "You're my friend."_

_"You're my mission!"_

_"Then finish it...because I'm with you till the end of the line."_

"Agh!"  The Winter Soldier slammed his metallic fist against a wall then, and shattered the brick before him. Those words, those damned words, haunted him. There was a meaning to them that he didn't understand, he just knew it somehow. And he had a feeling [and what a strange thing that was] that if he could remember that, everything else would fall into place. Every thing would make sense. But that was wrong, because he had no past, and no friends, and he was only the Winter Soldier.

But he hadn't gone back. Not to Hydra, not to those fools, not to that damned electric machine or that cryo-tube.

He'd gone to a museum called the Smithsonian, where he was faced with a monument in memorial of Lieutenant James Buchanan Barnes, 'Bucky', as Captain America a.k.a. Steven Rogers had apparently called him.

_"...Bucky?"_

_"Who the Hell is 'Bucky'?"_

_"You know me!"_

_"No I don't!"_

_"You've known me your whole life!"_

The man on the monument looked just like him, but he didn't see himself in that man at all. Nothing made sense, nothing was what it was supposed to be. But if, by some stretch of reality, he was this 'Bucky' fellow...where did that leave him? What had he been doing with his life, and what would he do now?

But he had nothing concrete, and frankly, he almost didn't want to. This was too much to process at once, too much for a man who had been treated like a living tool. He had been tortured, bred, and trained to have no emotions, no thoughts or desires beyond his missions, no compassion, mercy, or bonds. The Winter Soldier had no idea how to cope, and the unfamiliar territory did nothing for his wanting to discover...himself.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Nearly two months had passed since Shield had disbanded and the team had gone their separate ways. Natasha kept in vague contact, Fury was...Fury, and Sam had agreed to go with Steve to find Bucky, a fact for which he was still grateful. But being grateful and having any luck were too different things. Natasha had been right about chasing ghosts as far as the Winter Soldier was concerned. The bits of information he could glean about the Soldier were clearly only half-truths, half-tall tales. But the bits of truth that came out of them made his heart wrench. Even Loki didn't sound so bad compared to what the Winter Soldier was made out to be. Loki was a giant, spoiled brat...but the Winter Soldier....he was a monster.

But he was also [somewhere deep inside] Bucky, and a monster was something Bucky could never be.

Steve had managed to reveal that Bucky hadn't returned to base to become a human popsicle again, that was a good sign. But aside from giving them no clues about where Bucky had gone, there was a prevailing theory that the reason they kept him on ice wasn't just to keep him alive longer. The tall tales seemed to agree that the cryo-freezing and shock-treatments kept him sane, and that without it, he'd go completely berserk.

Steve hadn't seen any disastrous scenarios from a berserk super soldier of late, but that didn't mean that Bucky was alright. He needed help, and Steve intended to give it to him.

Steve was jarred from his thoughts by the sudden blare of his cell phone, and he was only slightly surprised to see 'Nick Fury' on the call I.D. "I take it this isn't a social call?" he answered by way of greeting.

" _You're damn straight. I've got something you'll like. Might be your friend. Could be a headache. Either w_ _ay._ "

As it turned out, within the past half hour, there had been an explosion in an area that should have been deserted forest. A ranger had responded and filled the air waves with tales of gunfire and a metal-armed man before he'd apparently lost consciousness. The fight seemed to have moved on, but that didn't mean Steve couldn't _'haul a** and have a look'_ as Fury put it.

That lead was about the best he'd had, and he was more than willing to look into it.

"We're heading out?" Sam wanted to confirm.

"Gear up, we've got a lot of ground to cover."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

By the time they reached the area [courtesy of a jet-because apparently Fury was a one-man Shield team himself], nearly an hour and a half had passed since the incident. Steve didn't expect Bucky to be mulling around, but if he could find any clues or even a point in the right direction, that would be a better lead than any he'd had. And sure enough, as they made their way to the patch of forest where the incident was said to have taken place, there were signs of Bucky having been there.

Several bodies lined the ground, and the area was charred where fires had been put out-fires which were caused by a makeshift explosion of some kind. The police had barred them at first, but upon seeing Captain America, they were practically tripping over themselves to give him the story. He settled for the officer who had taken in the ranger.

"What happened?"

The officer was one of the scant few present who didn't seem terribly impressed by the Captain's presence, but he answered anyway. "According to the ranger...he'd been doing a patrol and heard shots fired. He approached and found a small group of men against a single man, with an arm made of metal. They mentioned something about him needing to come back, and from what I understand it progressed to the metal-armed man creating a small bomb."

_Needing to come back_.  Steve mused before he offered a glance to Sam, whose expression suggested that he'd reached the same conclusion. Hydra. Despite having gotten their rear ends thoroughly kicked, there were still stragglers popping up that could still entice new members. Apparently they'd decided to get the Winter Soldier back on their side.

The morons.

Steve and Sam, who was tricked out in an upgraded set of wings, agreed to meet up in an hour's time if neither found anything. Sam could search in the skies while Steve covered the ground. That being said, there was a lot of ground to cover. Steve considered his options and tried to imagine where a pursued Winter Soldier would head in this situation. Did he run from the scene, or was he still being pursued? And why did Hydra think they could take him on at all? Shouldn't he, most of all, know exactly how to take a Hydra operative down? It seemed like a suicide mission, so there had to be a bigger end game than getting the Winter Soldier back. But what? What was he really worth to them?

Steve considered his options again as he scanned the area before he took off in the direction the fire would have traveled if it had continued. That would have been a potentially dangerous avenue if the fire hadn't been stopped, but that aside-instinct would be to run away from a fire. It was the less expected road, and he hoped, the one the resourceful 'Winter Soldier' would have chosen to cover his tracks.

Around fifteen minutes later with no sign of life, he began to wonder if he'd made the right call until he took note of a body several feet away. The neck had been snapped, and the man was clad in all black. He had a holster, but the gun was gone and Steve was sure he knew who had taken it. Steve was going in the right direction, but how far ahead was Bucky? He considered calling Sam over, but in case Bucky had diverted, it was best to let him keep all areas covered for now.

As Steve continued, it became clear that Bucky had indeed been pursued further, despite the operatives he had already killed and the explosion, which only increased his suspicions that there was a greater end game than capturing the Winter Soldier. But even if they were desperate, were they really stupid enough to try taking him on?

His thoughts were interrupted by a bullet that whizzed past his head, and he was on guard in an instant as he whipped his shield out and scanned the area. Steve didn't have long to maintain that position when he found himself attacked from behind by a man with a knife. "Really? That's your best plan?" Steve whirled around and slammed his shield into the man's chest, which sent him sprawling several feet away. He turned back to defend against the shooter from before, startled to see that the matter was already well in hand.

No more than fifteen feet away, the shooter was deftly disarmed and shot through the head with brutal efficiency. And the one who had done it was the very man he had been looking for. The man's gaze slid towards Steve and Steve was startled by what he saw.

It was definitely Bucky, and Bucky hadn't exactly looked like man of the year when they'd last seen each other. But two months had taken quite a toll it seemed. Bucky's hair had grown longer and more ragged, he seemed disheveled and mucked, his nose was bent askew and there were fresh and fading bruises that littered his face as well as a jagged scar down his lip. His clothes were torn and his shoes ragged, not to mention it seemed Bucky had lost some weight, the angles of his face had sharpened and his clothes which had been tightly fitting before were slightly loose.

Steve took a step towards him, his heart aching from the sight. "Bucky-"

Bucky's gaze had been blank on Steve at first, as if he didn't really see him. But when Steve spoke he blinked slowly before his eyes narrowed and he promptly turned and ran.

"Bucky, wait!" Steve was off in pursuit. Finally, _finally_ he had found him. He couldn't let him get away again. At first, it seemed the Winter Soldier would pull another fast one on him, they were both super soldiers and Bucky was probably just fine in the unfamiliar terrain. But then he realized that Bucky seemed...slower, and if he didn't miss his mark, his left leg had a limp. Just what the Hell had happened to him in the past two months?

Steve pushed himself, just that little bit harder, because _just a little bit more_...and then he had him. He surged forward and tackled the other man down, it seemed like the surest bet to stop him. Steve expected an instant fight, so despite the momentary confusion involved in their rolling bodies, he managed to wind up straddling Bucky's waist as he pinned his arms above his head. It was easier than he'd expected, and while Bucky jerked and writhed beneath him a moment, it seemed more like instinct that moved him than actual desire. Bucky's eyes were focused on Steve, so intently it was almost unnerving, but they had a glazed look that was unfamiliar to him both for Bucky and for the Winter Soldier.

"Buck...?"

Bucky stared up at him with clenched fists and a blank expression, and then finally mumbled something Steve couldn't catch.

"Whad'ja say?"

There was a brief silence before Bucky snarled. " _Not my name_!" He surged forward, his strength combined with Steve's off-guard moment combined to allow him to throw Steve off.

But Steve caught him by a fistful of tattered shirt and made a move to kick him. Bucky beat him to the punch and landed a wallop on his head. But the force of it didn't seem quite up to par, and Steve jumped up to land a firm punch to Bucky's gut. He had hoped it would knock the wind out of him a bit, what he didn't expect was to find his fist stained red with blood, or for Bucky to gasp and stumble backwards. Steve hadn't noticed it through Bucky's black clothes, but it seemed that at some point Bucky had been stabbed and had simply chosen to ignore it. Likely something important had been stabbed, given Bucky's actual reaction of pain, and in Winter Soldier fashion Bucky had been inhumanly ignoring it.

"Buck! You're hurt!"  Steve stepped forward to grip Bucky's shoulder and he tried to meet the other's gaze. "Let me take you to a hospital. We gotta get you help."

_"The patient is prepped for the procedure, take him to the hospital wing. Give him a sedative to help the muscle spasms when you attach it."_

Bucky flexed his metallic arm, the 'it', reflexively.

_"Yeagh!" The shout was inhuman, painful and choking, and the man barely realized it was his own as fragments of thoughts became disjointed to sensations loosely associated with words in his fractured mind. Who was he? What was he? What was this? Pain. Pain. The scalpel went in. The knife. Cold metal. Pain. A scream. Pain. Burning. Bleeding. Dying. Stop it. Please. Pain. Click. Shock. Pain-_

"No" Bucky's next movement was better than par as he rammed a sharp elbow into Steve's face and jerked his head back. It was enough to actually make his nose bleed a little before Bucky delivered a punishing blow to his stomach that nearly knocked the wind out of him. His eyes were wild and frantic as he charged Steve and dug dirty, jagged nails into his throat as he tried to break his neck.

Whatever Bucky was, he was even less stable or sane than the last time Steve had seen him, and he was currently bleeding out despite his attempts to disregard it. He had to act fast-for Bucky's sake. "Sorry about this, pal." he said through gritted teeth before he aimed a light punch to Bucky's wounded stomach, enough to get the other to release him a bit. In that moment of slight distraction, he aimed his own punch at Bucky's head and gave him a punch that might have snapped the neck of a regular man. If Bucky, or rather, the Winter Soldier were at his best it might not have connected or worked. But whatever was wrong with Bucky, when punched, his eyes widened before they closed and he fell slack, unconscious as Steve had hoped.

Steve caught him before he hit the ground, and carefully hefted the other man up. He had had close contact to the other, when he'd had to choke him out on the heli-carrier, and he was certain that Bucky's frame was slightly smaller. Had he been starving himself? But there wasn't time to dwell on that as he pulled out his cell and called Sam.

" _Go ahead, Cap._ "

"I'm about five miles west of the start point, I need the jet and a medical team asap."

" _Are you alright_?"

"I'm fine, it's not for me...I've got him."

A moment later the call ended and Steve braced himself for what he expected to be a short wait. He looked down at the disheveled man in his arms, and the pang in his heart was accompanied by a familiar brush of memories. Steve had had too much time to think on those memories, it seemed.

_"Ow! Careful where ya stick those!" Sixteen-year old Bucky complained. He'd have a nice shiner on his cheek, to say nothing of the bloody nose he'd gotten defending Steve from a group of bullies. Four on one. And Bucky had knocked all their blocks off, so to speak._

_Steve shoved the other tissue into Bucky's nose anyway, with maybe a little more force than was necessary. "Don't be such a baby, it's your own fault."_

_Bucky winced and scoffed as he knuckled Steve's ear a bit. "Whose fault was it, punk?"_

_Steve's eyes narrowed as he shoved Bucky's hand away. "Don't treat me like a kid! I coulda taken care of it myself!" he snapped, and Bucky blinked before Steve scowled and turned away. "Forget it."_

_"Hey...I said hey!" Bucky rose and caught Steve by the arm. Steve tried to pull away, but Bucky was by far the stronger as he held him fast. "What's your problem?"_

_"Maybe you're my problem!" Steve snapped, and Bucky's eyes flashed with hurt a moment, and Steve regretted his words instantly. Bucky wasn't heartless by any means, but neither did he let anything phase him, he lived aloof despite his playful attitude. Steve was one of the few people that could get past that, and he hated to be the cause of pain on Bucky's part. Which was exactly the **real** problem. _

_Bucky's expression suggested that a biting remark was in Steve's future. But in the end he just sighed and punched his fist gently to Steve's cheek, where he let it rest. "I know ya wanna fight your own fights, Steve. But you can't expect me to stand back and let those bastards go at you. You're my best friend, there's nothin' I wouldn't do for ya, you know that."_

_Steve's expression softened before it became pained. His voice was laced with frustration as he admitted. "It's not about me fighting...not just about that...it's the same for me, idiot. I...I wanna be able to watch your back too. I should be able to do that much for my best friend, at least."_

_Understanding dawned and Bucky chucked slightly as his gaze softened and became fond. Another side of Bucky that Steve was one of very few to see. He lifted his hand from Steve's cheek to Steve's hair as he ruffled it affectionately. "Dummy. You do more for me than I do for you, trust me. You keep me on the straight and narrow." Steve snorted, and Bucky shook his head. "No, I mean it. If I didn't have you, I wouldn't...it just wouldn't be the same."_

_"Yeah, you wouldn't get laughed at for hanging out with the neighborhood freak." Steve said bitterly._

_Bucky was a bit taken aback to hear his usually optimistic and never-say-die friend speaking so low of himself. He frowned before he flicked Steve's head, none too gently._

_"Hey-"_

_Steve's protest was cut off as Bucky shoved Steve back onto his bed before he plunked down beside him and made them eye level. "Now, you listen to me, Steve Rogers. You're not a freak, you're my best damned friend. Yeah, I could hang out with other people, but it wouldn't be the same. Because none of them would be **you**. None of them could hold a candle to ya. You got more in here-" he punched the area above Steve's heart lightly, "Than all those bastards combined. And you got what's up here-" he tapped Steve's head. "You could do anything you wanted, ya know? I'm not like that. If we weren't living in a neighborhood of idiots, it might be you gettin' laughed at for hanging out with me. I wouldn't care though. They don't mean a damn thing to me. You do. Okay? You're like...you're like a brother to me, Steve..." he trailed off softly, before his eyes narrowed and he growled. "And if ya ever make me say something this freaking girly again, I swear, I will punch you." he held up a threatening finger, pleased when Steve after a moment of looking stunned, broke into a smile. _

_"Bucky...I had no idea you were such a sweetheart." Steve crooned, and Bucky shot him a glare before Steve's small form embraced Bucky's larger one. Bucky seemed surprised, and he huffed, but in the end his arms encircled Steve as he hugged the boy tightly. Steve gripped his best friend a moment before he said softly. "I know you're just looking out for me...I just wish..."_

_"I know, pal." Bucky said gently, and he did.  The same way Steve knew the real Bucky, the one few knew, Bucky knew the real Steve too.  And moreover, actually cared about him._

_"Thanks, Buck...for everything, really...you're like a brother to me to..."_

_Silence stretched on for a moment, and he could practically feel Bucky's smile. Steve was sure that it mirrored his own. But the moment past and the hug grew comfortably awkward. Steve pulled away and playfully knuckled Bucky's head as he drawled. "And you were wrong. You've got a pretty good head on your shoulders yourself. For being you, I mean." Steve said, playfully matter-of-fact._

_Bucky lifted a brow as he released Steve, his hand lingered on his friend's shoulder a moment, wanting to be sure that Steve was really okay and not just pretending. But as the other teased him, he knew he must have gotten through. Steve was himself again, and all was right with the world. "When I said you 'got what's up here', I meant hot-air. You got that, right?" he teased back._

_Steve snorted, and the two shared a look that had them dissolving into laughter. It was just one of those carefree, warm moments, and the pair laughed together until they could hardly breathe, red-faced and watery-eyed._

_"Thanks, Buck." Steve finally said in a laughing exhale._

_Bucky grinned. "Anytime, pal."_

The jet touched down about forty feet off in a large clearing, right about as Falcon dropped down beside him. It wasn't easy maneuvering in a forest, but Falcon was the expert 'not-pilot', after all. Steve took one last glance at Bucky, at what lay between them. And he was resolute in at least one thing: he was going to save Bucky Barnes, whatever it took.

_This time, I'll have your back, pal..._

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

**I didn't plan on that last flashback. Originally, I was going to stop at 'I've got him', but that seemed a poor ending and I wanted to get Steve's thoughts on the moment. So there would be a short flashback highlighting Bucky and Steve's mutual devotion, and Steve's desire to be stronger to protect his best friend. It'll be a bit of a theme later on. So it worked out. And it was cute and fun to write. And Bucky went and exceeded my expectations in saying just the right thing in his own, tough guy kind of way. XD This could have been a one-shot, but naahh, I've got plans for these boys. Bwahaha! Reviews are like verbal hugs, they feel my soul and inspire me to write! Enjoy!~ Witchy~**


	2. The Undesired Truth

**Okay, so I had wanted a magical character to be the root of Bucky's issue. And since he was mentioned in Capt. 2, I thought I'd use Dr. Strange. But I don't know him at all, and I don't feel comfortable using him as a character, even if I were to call it my version of him. And I skimmed all the marvel characters that can use magic, but the ones I know are definitely not applicable. [I don't see Loki, Enchantress, Daimon, or Scarlet Witch coming to aid. XD] So I thought I'd somehow squeeze it into something scientific, but that just seems...like a stretch. So. Bear with me. As I figure out how to fix this little issue. XD**

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

"...I don't understand." Steve admitted after a moment.

"Yeah...it's a little over your head, Captain Crunch." Tony said with his usual biting humor.

.......

Steve and Sam had ended up back on the jet while the skeleton crew operating it made a makeshift medical team of themselves. This hadn't exactly been planned, so it was slap-dash at best. They'd bound Bucky's wounds and given him enough sedatives to keep down a small elephant, necessary, given who and what he was. [Though truth be told, they weren't _exactly_ sure what that 'what' entailed].

Despite the urgency-and Steve's expectations-when the jet landed an hour and a half later, it wasn't at a hospital. The ostentatious and familiar display of their host's name gave away where they were, and who Fury's jet-lining contact had been.

"Captain Crunch, hey, you're looking pretty good for pushing ninety." Tony Stark had drawled as the jet bay opened.

Steve hadn't had the humor or the time, and his initial surprise when he'd seen where they were to land had passed. "Tony." he acknowledged. "My friend needs a hospital, now, he-"

Tony cut him off as if he hadn't spoken, while he pointedly waved a hand towards the jet where Bucky was being taken away. "So Fury calls me up out of the blue. Apparently good ole Captain Stars and Stripes is on this crazy mission to hunt down his former best friend turned psychopathic hit-man, and he needs a jet asap. Being the humanitarian I am, I send him one."

"Tony-" Steve interjected warningly as he watched Bucky being wheeled away. "Where-"

"-And then, he informs me that said psychopath is need of medical attention and to have a medical staff on hand to perform emergency surgery. Which I do."

At that, a little tension leaves Steve, "Thank y-"

"But you know what? I was supposed to be on a date with Pepper. And now I'm here. With a psychopathic hit-man and Captain Crunch. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Uh...not exactly."

Tony nodded like that was to be expected. "You owe me. _Big_."

Steve nodded slowly. "Okay...yeah. I owe you. Thank you, Tony."

Tony blinked and then shrugged. "Not that big a deal. Anyway, why are you out here? Shouldn't you be practicing your bedside manner?" he gestured behind him.

Steve wasn't sure whether to be exasperated or amused. "I'll follow you?"

Tony lifted a brow as he turned and headed off, and although Steve was clearly expected to follow and that was the rational thing to do, Tony added with a cluck of his tongue. "You'll follow me? Some captain you are."

Sam had joined him at some point, apparently, because he piped up then. "So that's Tony Stark...is he always like that?"

Steve considered that as they walked. "...That was pretty tame, actually...but...yeah. He's uh...he's something else."

.......

That 'something else' was as good as his word. Bucky was in an operating room almost immediately, the bullet had been successfully retrieved, and things seemed set for a clean surgery. "So that's the 'Winter Soldier'. Kind of looks like the Hobo Soldier. But. Y'know." Tony mused.

Steve shot him an irritated glance, while Sam, who seemed thoroughly amused by Tony, hid a smirk. "That's not funny...jokes aside...he's...he needs help."

"No, I can definitely see that." Tony said plainly.

"I mean it, Tony." Steve growled, which only seemed to increase Tony's desire to agitate him.

"Yeah, I meant it too, I can really see." he pointed two fingers at his eyes and then gestured outward to mimic sight.

Steve looked tempted to violence when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. "He's trying to cheer you up. Don't let it get to you." The voice was a little soft-spoken, and a welcome one at that. "Bruce." Steve watched as Bruce took beside Tony. "Good to see you...what are you doing here?"

"He works for me." Tony supplied.

" _With_ him." Bruce corrected. "Sometimes...he's assisting me with...my research."

Steve knew what he meant and he inclined his head. "How's that-"

A scream cut him off. Inside the window-ed room that served as the operating room, the Winter Soldier seemed to have woken up and he was far from a happy camper. He had already jerked his arm free of one of the restraints, and it seemed that the sedatives were no longer effective. One of the small tables had been overturned, and a doctor lay unconscious.

"No!" Steve started to dart inside when one of the doctors slammed a large needle into Bucky's back and drained it quickly. Bucky twisted and tried to make a grab for the doctor with his left arm, but his right arm and legs were still restrained and the effort proved futile. He almost immediately seemed to grow more sluggish and he strained weakly at his bonds a moment before his gaze fell on the window and the man who lay beyond it. At the sight of Steve, Bucky went still and stared a moment as his expression twisted as if struggling to remember something, but then he went slack and fell back on the bed.

Even Tony had tensed at first, concerned for the safety of those inside, but he relaxed quickly and was back to himself when he spoke next. "Does he do that creepy-eye-sex thing with you a lot? Because it's creepy."

Steve said not a word as he stared at Tony darkly, and Bruce just sighed.

...............

Special care was taken to keep Bucky under a motley assortment of sedatives. He seemed to build up a tolerance to them quickly, and mixing them wasn't likely to do him the same ill harm it would do a normal person. Tony and Bruce both seemed intrigued with the idea of studying Bucky a bit, to Steve's further irritation, but it was kept to a minimum in light of his current condition. When the surgery was completed, fluid samples were taken, as well as his vitals, and lastly a brain scan. That was the part that had 'gone over Steve's head'.

"Look at those readings...it's...wow."

"They must have lit him up like a Christmas tree." Tony said thoughtfully.

Steve had glared at that comment, and the previous comments which had been more fast-paced and contained science-related words that barely registered as English to him-prompted him to say-

"...I don't understand."

Sam's expression suggested that it was a shared sentiment.

"Yeah...it's a little over your head, Captain Crunch."

Bruce endeavored to explain, and was more sympathetic than Tony in the matter. "Ah..let's see...imagine the brain like a series of highways. It's constantly moving and flowing. Damage to the brain causes disruptions to this flow, like a car accident backing up traffic. Eventually the accident is cleaned up and traffic resumes."

"Bo-riiing." Tony drawled, but for some reason-when Bruce shot him a _look_ , he pouted faintly and quieted.

Steve might have marveled at that, but he was more concerned with Bucky and decoding his brain. From Bruce and Tony's reactions, he'd garnered that it wasn't in good shape.

"Some are small accidents. Things like banging your head, sleep deprivation, not eating right, can affect your brain function. Others are larger, like concussions. Those 'accidents', take longer to clean up and that's where you can get things like amnesia. There are no detours in the brain, it's a fluid highway, if it's blocked...that's that. I believe that was James' initial circumstance...when he..." Bruce trailed off as Steve's teeth clenched.

"When I failed him." Steve said lowly.

Even Tony didn't have a quip to make from that. They all knew the story, it was plastered on the Smithsonian for pity's sake. Bucky plummeted to his certain death in an icy wasteland and was left, all under the watch of his best friend and captain. Most people saw the hero, but some could see the man, and realize how much that incident weighed on him.

But it was far more than they knew. To Steve, it was one of, if not the greatest, regret that he had. When he'd finally had the chance to save Bucky, when Bucky had agreed to follow _his_ lead, when Bucky had trusted him, offered his life to him, when he had the chance to protect Bucky...he'd failed. Miserably. And Bucky had spent the past seventy years in an existence that would Hellish to anyone. But to Bucky in particular...Steve knew it was...far worse. Worse than Hell. Bucky was a great man. And Steve had let him down.

"...His file indicated that he had amnesia initially...it was what allowed them to do as they liked. But the accidents began to clear themselves, he began to rebel and regain himself whenever he was out too long and they took to freezing him to keep him stable. But in the interim, they also wiped him clean every time. Shock therapy."

"I know all this." Steve said with his fists clenched. It had been painful to read, and no less so now to hear. Bruce shot him a sympathetic look and continued.

"The treatments reinforced the accidents, made them...more detrimental. And also inhibited his ability to clean those accidents. His mind would make the attempt but it would be like ramming a car into it repeatedly to clear it. What you described to me of his behavior, how his brain appears now...my own opinion...I would say that his mind is trying to heal but has been so thoroughly damaged that it can't repair itself. It's just...attacking itself, over and over. He probably suffers from migraines, hallucinatory experiences, he probably can't judge memory from reality, and what memories he might be regaining would be...hard for him to process."

"You got all this from looking at that picture, huh?" Steve finally said, and the words were forced from his throat which felt thick.

"Well...not exactly. There's...his physical condition to consider." Bruce admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"The broken nose, the bruises, the mangled knuckles, the sleep deprivation, he's malnourished and dehydrated, and one of his legs was infected. But that last one might be more superhuman ignorance than anything else." Tony spoke up again.

"...He's been fighting...he's been on the run, that's normal though, right?"

"He's a super soldier, why would that be normal?" Tony queried.

Bruce filled in the rest seeing Steve's confused expression. "...The level of stress his body was under...his glucose levels...I would hazard a guess that he sleeps a few hours...every few days. As for eating and drinking, he's barely eating enough to survive. If he weren't...special...he would probably be dead by now. For more reasons than the obvious." Namely all the attempts on him and his inhuman stunts.

Steve took that information like a punch to the gut. "Why would he do that?"

"...The reports mentioned briefly that he was fed supplement shakes in the brief periods they let him out of freezing. Eating, drinking, or sleeping wasn't necessary to sustain him, really. I'm sure he knows that he has to, but it's not instinctive to him like it is for us. And with the state his mind is in, he probably can't comprehend hunger or exhaustion well enough to force himself to do those things often."

"How can he not know he's supposed to eat? He remembers other things. He can fight, he speaks Russian-I know that, he's a specialist with weapons and bombs-"

"- _Bingo_." Tony cut him off. "Those are things they've reinforced him with over seventy-years. Muscle memories, different parts of the brain, other skill sets. Aggressive behaviors that they could force him to draw on. He's like a little kid who got taught to ride a bike before he could walk. He skipped the basics and just...goes for it."

Steve wasn't entirely sure he grasped everything, but he got the gist. "You mentioned his injuries..."

Bruce and Tony exchanged a glance before Bruce explained. "As I mentioned, given the state of his mind...headaches and mental instability are pretty much to be expected but...the state of his actual hand....the knuckles are mangled. Scars on scars. As if he'd punched a wall over and over, so many times that the skin hasn't healed properly. It's just marred flesh. I would say some of his facial wounds, like his nose are also self-inflicted...there was trauma to his skull that suggested that he treated his head much like his fist."

Steve was horrified. "But...why?" He had been asking that too much, but it wasn't like he'd had a choice.

Sam was content for his part to simply listen.

"Coping." Tony supplied. "He doesn't understand and he can't cope with what's happening. He's broken. So how does he try to fix it? With something familiar, something he can focus on, something to distract him from the real pain. Which is more pain."

Steve's eyes felt watery then and he steeled himself. This was what Bucky had been going through for two months? What he had nearly gone through before, except that every time he started, he'd be shocked and frozen back into submission? A wave of hatred welled within him. And that wasn't his style, but he couldn't help it. Bucky had been...violated, mutilated, and torn apart...and the need to make some one pay for that nearly choked him.

"Can you fix it? His brain? 'Clear the accidents'?"

Bruce and Tony exchanged another glance. "Well...that's-"

"He means no. We can't."

"Tony." Bruce's voice was stern, but Tony didn't back down this time.

"You want me to sugar-coat it? Maybe, _maybe_ somehow, if he could stop killing himself slowly, he might live long enough to _possibly_ overcome _some_ of the damage but..."

"It's that bad?" Steve asked, and he dreaded the answer.

" _No_." Bruce said firmly, and then amended. "But...it is bad. To try to fix it with surgery would have the opposite effect. We could stop the worst symptoms, but then his mind would never repair, he'd be...stuck."

"So...what are you saying?" Steve wanted to hear it spoken clearly. "He can't be fixed? What does that even mean? Just give up on him? Keep him locked up? Hope that maybe he pulls through _a little_."

"Basically, yeah-"

" _Tony_." Bruce's eyes flashed green slightly, just for a second, and Tony held up his hands in surrender. The man turned his gaze back to Steve. "There are medications he can take...to ease the symptoms. That would help overall as well. But if he's going to be fixed, it will be mostly dependent on him. And you." Steve didn't have to ask for clarification this time as Bruce continued. "He needs an anchor. Not pain. A real tether, a goal. The only connection he has to the man he used to be. He needs you."

Tony rolled his eyes and made a 'gag' motion to Sam, who was not amused this time and kept his attentions on Steve.

"Every time he sees me, he tries to kill me. You really think I'm what he needs?"

Bruce hesitated and then spoke. "This is far from my area of expertise, and most of my knowledge about your mutual history is second-hand but...I would say that if any force could inspire him to heal, and to fight...it would be you. You're really...all he's got."

_"Yeah, I could hang out with other people. But it wouldn't be the same. Because none of them would be **you**."_

It had happened a lifetime ago, but those words rang in Steve's mind clearly. Was he really Bucky's best chance? When it was his fault Bucky was in this mess in the first place? If Bucky were in his right mind...what would he think?

"Be honest. What do you think his chances are?"

"Slim to none." Tony supplied.

"...I couldn't say for sure... But I do believe that he has one." Bruce said softly.

Steve considered that, and reached his decision.

"Lemme see Bucky."

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

**So I was totally in the serious feels of Bucky and Steve. And then Tony shows up and it all goes to Hell. He was totally trying to corrupt the characters and make this a comedy fic. Grr. Bucky's in trouble. Steve's all conflicted. Sam didn't really have much to say...and Tony had too much. XD Yay Banner! Well. Next time. Bucky will actually speak in complete sentences to Steve. Maybe. Sort of. Reviews are like verbal hugs for me! Enjoy!~Witchy~**


	3. The Bittersweet Hope

**Mmm. So I think I have a good plan for this. And things to follow this. But I need to focus on this. XD So! Where were we? Tortured!Bucky and Angsty!Steve? XD Enjoy!**

**~ ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

 

"So, Cap'n. Like what you see?"

Tony led Steve and Bruce to Bucky, and more and more Steve wondered just how many levels of crazy Tony's Stark Tower had. A jet-pad, a medical room, _this_.

It was a purely windowed cell in the middle of a large room. From what Tony had described, it was modeled after the one that had been used to hold Loki. It was 'crazy-Asgardian-god-proof', and by extension, 'Hobo-Soldier' proof, as Tony put it. A steady stream of sedative gas was filtered into the little room, and Steve had to wonder how long they could keep it up. There could be only so many kinds. But what caught his attention was the sleeping Bucky, decked out in a hospital gown and tucked into a small, white bed. It seemed wrong, whether it was Bucky or the Winter Soldier, and he frowned at the sight.

"I wanted to keep him restrained." Tony continued. "But Jolly insisted that we should give him a chance to not try to-"

"-What he means is that if you can get through to him, maybe he'll stop trying to hurt himself." Bruce put it more gently, knowing Tony well enough to know that the next statement would have been graphic in a way Tony considered humorous.

Steve took that in with a nod before his brow furrowed. "Jolly?"

Tony jerked a thumb towards Bruce. "As in the Jolly Green Giant? Clever, right?"

Steve seemed a bit bewildered by that, and Tony just sighed. "No accounting for taste...anyway, we'll turn off the gas and keep an eye out. Ground rules. No going inside the bubble. No letting him out of the bubble. And no creepy-eye-sex." he warned.

Steve rolled his eyes before his brow furrowed. "Wait...you're going to watch?"

"Well, yeah."

"This is between me and Bucky...you don't need-" "Don't worry, Cappy-tan," Tony interrupted, and Steve vaguely wondered how many variations of his title Tony could come up with, "We won't be listening. Your ninety-year-old dirty talk does not need to profane my not-so-innocent ears. We'll be watching so that if he goes apes***, we can turn on the gas. Unbreakable bubble does not mean unbreakable Hobo Soldier." he reminded Steve.

Steve didn't think he had wanted to punch Tony so much the last time they had spoken. Or had he just been too generous in his memories of the other? "Fine...thanks."

"Don't mention it." Tony saluted, and he headed off.

Bruce paused a moment to set a hand on Steve's shoulder and give it a light squeeze. "It won't be easy, whatever happens. But I really do believe you have a chance. So...don't give up."

Steve smiled and bumped a fist against Bruce's hand lightly. "Thank you, Bruce. I mean it."

Bruce smiled back almost shyly, and Steve suspected that Bruce wasn't used to getting thanked. The only people he probably hung out with were Tony and Pepper, Tony never said 'thank you' and Pepper probably didn't have a reason to. Most others who met Bruce ended up screaming. Which was a shame, because he was confident Bruce was one of the kindest men he'd met. Fate was a pain like that, Bucky was living proof. Bruce inclined his head and then headed off, and when the door had shut behind them, Steve finally turned and took a seat in the chair outside the bubble. The only things in there were the bed and a tray with a cup of milk and a bowl of soup. He settled in with the expectation of a long wait, but around ten minutes later, Bucky began to stir and Steve rose to stand next to the glass right beside Bucky's bed.

Bucky's body writhed a moment, and his expression tensed up as if in pain before his eyes shot open. He lay still in the bed a moment before he suddenly sat upright and scanned the room with wide, unfocused eyes. As his gaze fell on Steve, he stilled. " _You_." he growled, as if Steve were the last person he'd ever want to see, before his eyes narrowed and he jumped out of the bed in a defensive stance. But he immediately began to pace the room and examine the walls, as if to determine a way out. He had reached Steve again when the other spoke.

"Whoa! Bucky, slow down, pal. You don't wanna tear out your stitches." he pointed to Bucky's stomach. Bucky's jaw clenched but his eyes slid down, and as he saw the gown, he stiffened and went still. He stood unmoving for so long that Steve thought he might be about to pass out.

_"Put him in this, it'll help keep some of the blood off the table." A scrub was passed over his head from his spot on the gurney._

Steve watched in surprise as Bucky suddenly ripped the top off. They'd left him in a pair of boxers, and judging by the cartoon ducks-they hadn't been the Winter Soldier's. But he drew in a sharp breath as he saw what lay under the hospital gown.

Bucky's body was littered with scars. Stabs, cuts, gunshot wounds, wounds he couldn't properly identify, a few burns from the look of it. And when Bucky spun around as if searching for something, he was horrified to see a line of jagged scars in a line, as if he'd been caught by hooks or barbed wire and tried to yank himself free.

"Bucky." he choked out.

At that, the man stilled again and then whirled around as he stormed up to the side of the window-room that Steve was on. "Clothes. Where are they?" he snarled.

It took Steve a moment to realize what Bucky was asking, and he realized suddenly why he'd ripped off the scrubs. "Well, the ones you were wearing were covered with blood and torn up, so...but we'll get you new ones soon."

Bucky's eyes narrowed as Steve said 'we'll', and he suddenly slammed his metallic fist against the wall. It didn't make so much as a scratch, and Bucky tried again. Then again. Harder and harder each time, and he seemed oblivious when his stitches tore a bit and blood began to trickle out.

"Bucky, stop! Your stomach!" Steve's hands flew to the wall of the bubble, desperate to stop the other's movements and unable to do so.

Bucky stilled yet again, and he glanced down at himself before he looked back up at Steve with an expression that suggested he didn't see what the problem was. And then the anger returned as he narrowed his eyes at Steve. "What is this place?"

Steve wasn't sure to what he was referring specifically, so he answered all he could think of. "Well, this is a room in Stark Tower...and this...bubble-room is made of a special material. It's almost as strong as my shield." he said, by way of comparison. His expression was apologetic then. "It's just for...while you get settled, Buck."

_A flash of red, white, and blue. The glimmer of metal in the sunlight._

_"Hell, no. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight, I'm following him."_

A confident voice echoed in his mind. It was a voice that he'd heard before, one that gave him a strange sense of vertigo. He couldn't have called it deja vu, that term was as unfamiliar to his mental array as the sensation it represented.

There was another clatter against the wall as the Winter Soldier punched it again. "Stop calling me that." he snarled. "Why am I here?" He watched the man's expressions carefully. But all of the emotions the other man displayed were unfamiliar to him. He knew how to read emotions on his targets that were common, for the sake of his missions. But the strange scrunching, like the man was in pain somehow, it threw him off.

Steve wasn't sure what to say, how to explain things in a way that the other would understand in his current state. "...I know you don't believe me, but you are James Barnes. You're...you're a mess right now, pal, I won't lie to you...but that's why you're here, so we can fix you." he offered a small smile.

_"He's showing signs of rebellion again. Give him a shock. That'll fix him."_

Bucky's eyes had that unfocused look again, and he gripped his head as he muttered. "No more...stop...get your hands off of me!" he shouted before he let out a guttural noise and overturned the whole bed. He attempted again to assault the wall, and the blood continued to well at his now aggravated stitches.

"Bucky!" His gaze was frantic as he searched for where there might be a tell-tale camera. "Turn the gas on, damnit!"  Was Tony waiting for a gilded invitation?

"Well, that was fast."  Tony had muttered when the Winter Soldier had started going berserk, but when he went to turn on the gas, Bruce stayed his hand. Tony lifted a brow. "This working for you, or something, buddy?"

Bruce didn't bother to chide him. "Hold on a second...not yet."  Tony didn't think that was such a good idea, and the Captain was going to be pissed...but he...had some relative amount of faith [not to be confused with 'trust'] in Bruce.  So he shrugged and settled back in to watch, even as the Captain yelled at him to turn it on.

When the gas failed to arrive, Steve cursed as Bucky continued his onslaught. He had to do something-there had to be something- " _I-I've got...ah...I've got a dame..so rare and fine...I'd do anything...just to make her mine_."  Steve's voice was a little hoarse and he coughed as he continued his poor attempt. " _I swear in the moonlight, she's an angel divine...nothing like that sweet dame of mine_."

It was an old song, it had been a little old even they'd listened to it back in the day. But Bucky loved odd music, [in every one else's opinion but his own], and Steve had liked it well enough. He didn't know where the idea had come from, he'd just reacted, a desperate attempt to distract and reach Bucky. And to his surprise, [and relief], Bucky stopped with a fist on the wall and stared at Steve with a blank expression. When Steve finished, Bucky's expression twitched into something almost like confusion, and his voice was low as he asked. "What the Hell was that?"

"Uh...Sweet Dame of Mine? It's a song. Music. You know about music, right?" God, he hoped so.

Bucky's expression twitched again, and if looks could kill, Steve felt that he'd be dead in forwards and reverse. "What's _wrong_ with you?" he hissed.

Great, his completely off-the-wall, insane best friend was asking what _his_ problem was. But he noticed that Bucky seemed slightly more lucid, and his eyes were definitely focused on Steve now. And he wasn't ripping his stitches, so there was that. Steve offered his friend a sheepish smile. "A lot, probably. But it's part of my charm. Maybe." He'd heard once that the best way to make a friend, was to act like you already were friends. And they really were, after all, so maybe if he attempted to be light-hearted...he might reach the other?

The way Bucky's teeth gritted at his words suggested that Steve had erred in that thought. A frustrated look crossed Bucky's face before he got the unfocused look again.

_"You're such a dope, Steve."_

_"Part of my charm. Jerk."_

Bucky's fingers twitched, and his gaze jerked upwards suddenly. "Why am I alive?"

Steve wasn't sure what answer he was looking for, he wasn't entirely sure he understood the root of the question. He hesitated before he replied. "Because apparently it takes more than being hurled out of a heli-carrier to kill you?" Which reminded him of something. "Thanks for saving me, by the way."

Bucky stiffened like he'd been accused of something dreadful. His eyes narrowed again as he snarled. "I did _not_ save you. You're my mission. I'm going to kill you." he said with lethal certainty.

Steve felt a little sick hearing those words coming out of Bucky's mouth, but he reminded himself that it was the Winter Soldier talking. "Well, someone pulled me out of that water. And I'm not exactly a light-weight these days. Nobody else owned up to it. And I saw a flash of silver in that water." he gestured to Bucky's metal arm pointedly.

Bucky paused, and he suddenly had a look of concentration as if trying to recall if that were true or not. But finally his cold gaze returned to Steve. "You're my mission." he repeated. "I will kill you."

"You said that before. And then you let me go. And then you saved me. So now let me ask _you_ a question. Why'd you do it?"

Bucky's mouth opened, and then closed as he stared at Steve. A vision flashed before his eyes, of a scrawny boy he'd seen in his head sometimes. He seemed so weak and breakable. "You were smaller." he muttered, aloud but to himself.

Steve was suddenly hopeful. "Yeah, that's right. Before I got the serum. We lived together in Brooklyn."

"Stop saying that!" Bucky snapped.

"That's the first time I said that-"

"-Stop! Whatever this is, stop! Kill me. Or let me kill you. But stop talking. Stop talking. Just stop. Stop it...that hurts...that...agh!" Bucky suddenly let out a wrenching noise and clutched his head as he stumbled back.

Steve recalled suddenly what Bruce had said about Bucky's returning memories being like crashing a car over and over again. He couldn't remember clearly, he couldn't fix himself, so he hit a stopping point and then... "Bucky, calm down! Just breathe! In and out, c'mon, Bucky!"

Bucky gasped suddenly as a wave of pain assailed him, and spots danced in his eyes as his vision was replaced by another scene. There was that scrawny kid again, he couldn't breathe...he always had troubled breathing...

_"C'mon, Steve, stay with me, buddy. Just breathe in and out, real slow. You're alright, pal." Bucky's voice was soothing as he rubbed circles on fourteen-year old Steve's back. Steve had had an attack out of the blue, and his mother hadn't been able to afford his medicine that month. "Where's your inhaler?...Steve? Where is it?"_

_Steve coughed and clutched his stomach as he shook his head. Bucky was going to be mad._

_Bucky watched him carefully a moment, but they'd grown up together and Bucky didn't need all the details, he could fill in the blanks on his own. He cursed as he continued his comforting circles on Steve's back, while he held his upper arm with his free hand. "Just breathe, bud. Phewww. In and out. Pheewww." he mimed breathing noises. "Calm beaches...sunny days...hot chicks in bikinis..." Steve half-laughed, half-coughed at that, and then he went back to breathing in and out as he followed Bucky's rhythm. Eventually, the weight in his chest lessened and with a final cough, the fit settled._

_Steve sighed heavily and inhaled, before he slumped a bit.  Bucky loped his arm around Steve and let the other boy lean against his chest as his squeezed his shoulder. "You alright, Steve?"_

_Steve swallowed hard, and Bucky had apparently anticipated his needs because he had a cup of water ready in his free hand._

_Steve gulped it down as he nodded before he gave a breathy. "Thanks, Buck."_

_Bucky eyed his friend for a moment before he nodded and rose suddenly. "Stay here for a bit, huh? Just remembered somethin'."_

_"Remembered what?" Steve's brow furrowed, but Bucky had taken something off the table and was already out the door. "Bucky, wait!"_

_"Just stay put!" Bucky hollered back, and with a frown, Steve complied. About twenty minutes later, Bucky returned a fresh canister for Steve's inhaler which he tossed on the bed casually while he popped a stick of gum and tossed a piece to Steve. "Needed some gum." he said by way of explanation. "Picked that up while I was out."_

_Steve stared at it before he realized. "Bucky...that...that came from your savings! You were gonna take...what's her...ah, Stacy to the game!"_

_Bucky shrugged. "Didn't like her much anyway, not a big deal. Rather spend the weekend with my best pal anyway." he plopped down on the bed beside Steve, who stared at his friend miserably._

_"I messed something up for you again.." Steve said morosely, before he yelped, "Ow!' as Bucky bopped him on the head._

_"Nothing about you messes my life up. Now shut up, use the damn inhaler, eat your gum, and let's turn on the radio! I need some tunes." he cranked it up suddenly, and some old tune came pouring out._

_Steve scrunched his nose, but naturally Bucky knew the words. And while, really, neither of them could carry a tune...there was something distinctly pleasant about Bucky's deep, Brookyln drawl when he sang._

_"I've got a dame so rare and fine...I'd do anything to make her mine...c'mon, Steve, y'know this one. I taught you better than that."_

_Steve had taken a hit from his inhaler, and with gum cracking in his jaw, he [not really] reluctantly joined in with a grin on his face. "Thanks, Buck."_

_"Just sing, dope. I swear in the moonlight..."_

_Steve added. "She's an angel...something something...she's divine...fine like wine.." The pillow thrown at his head seemed like a good indication of how poorly he was doing, but when he laughed and looked up, Bucky was grinning. And that was all that mattered, really. As long as Bucky was happy, that was enough...because for some reason, even though Bucky coulda had any one he liked for a friend...he'd chosen the miniature asmatic with an 'attitude' problem._

_"Steeeeeve." Bucky sang. "Keeeeep singingggg." he said loudly, and Steve added in more nonsense words that had them both grinning. It wasn't the first time he'd talked Steve through an episode, nor the last. And he was the only one who could._

Bucky didn't realize he'd fallen until he found himself on the opposite side of the room and hunched in a corner. There was a slight pool of blood where the last of the fresh blood near the surface had eked out of his wound. He was dimly aware of his target-Captain America-shouting something beside him. What was he saying? Everything _hurt_.

"cky....k....Bucky! C'mon! Wake up! Hey!" All of the sudden, Bucky had started muttering incoherently, then he'd shouted in pain and collapsed in a corner where he just twitched intermittently. When he finally came around, he seemed out of it. "Hey, Buck, are you alright? Talk to me."

"What did you do to me?" Bucky whispered, confused, in pain, and no longer lucid. He had vague notions that he was now a prisoner...but his jailer kept singing. And there was that boy, that boy couldn't breathe and needed his help...and there was that scalpel, gleaming metal in the water...there was too much water. "Too much water." he mumbled.

Steve rapped on the wall then in an attempt to get Bucky's attention, and that was the wrong move as Bucky jerked as though shot and jumped up with wide eyes. He saw Steve and he brought a clenched fist to the wall where he let it drag. Bucky heaved as though out of breath, and then he shouted. "Stop f***ing with me! I'll kill you! I'll f***ing kill you! Stop your damn singing!" he hissed as he clutched his head again. He wanted the pain to stop. He needed it to stop.

Bucky tapped his head on the wall lightly at first, and then harder the second time, almost experimentally before he suddenly slammed his head with enough force that it rocked his body on recoil. He then continued the process over and over again, and at some point, he must have hit his nose because a splatter of blood found it's way onto the wall in the span of just a few seconds.

Steve drew a sharp breath inward and screamed. "TURN THE DAMN GAS ON!"

Gas visibly poured in at once, and Bucky, whether from Steve's words or from the scent, jerked away and covered his nose. His mask, where was his mask? He stumbled as he tried not to breathe. Had to get away. Had to complete his mission. Eliminate the target. Nick Fury-no, he was dead...but he wasn't. The woman. The spider-woman. Tony Banner. Bruce Stark. No. Captain America. Who was his target? Who was he?

_The man from the pictures in the museum caught the scrawny boy by the shoulder. What was the expression on their faces? Why did they look like that? Was it...sadness? Was that it? The larger boy was...what was he doing? Why did he look like that?_

When Bucky awoke again, he wasn't sure how much time had passed. But he noted that this time, he was restrained. And there was that man again, in a chair next to him, with another expression that he didn't understand.

..............

"Why the Hell didn't you turn the gas off?" Steve shouted as he hunted down Tony and Bruce.

Tony pointed to Bruce. "His idea." he threw the other under the bus instantly in lieu of the extremely angry super-soldier.

"Like I'd believe that!"

"It's true." Bruce admitted, and Steve looked to him in surprise. Bruce was silent a moment before he elaborated. "...It's not enough to get him riled up and then stop. I warned you this process wouldn't be easy...we can't let him go too far, but...you have to push him at least a little if you want results."

"That's not your call." Steve snapped. "I asked you to stop."

"And I declined. I'll take responsibility for that." Bruce said evenly.

Steve glared at the man a moment, before he sighed and slumped down in a chair. "You're probably right, but...when he hurts himself...I just...I can't watch him....I can't do nothing."

"I know...that's why I did it for you. I'm sorry."

"No..it's...he talked...a little. Threatened to kill me, but...it was sentences. I guess that's...progress." Was it worse for him to be silent, or to speak only to threaten to kill him?

"It is."  Bruce said firmly. "He sounded...lucid for a few moments there...try getting him to eat and drink...that might help stabilize him...as well as that he simply needs to."

"I don't think he's going to take that well." "He won't have a choice." Bruce said, with an apologetic but matter-of-fact tone.

............

Which was how Bucky ended up re-stitched up, and in restraints that left him pretty much stuck to the bed. Steve had tested them himself, so he knew they were super-soldier proof. And he was more than sympathetic for the setup that was under the blanket, where they'd hooked him up to compensate for the fact that he wouldn't be using the restroom anytime soon. Although they'd given him some light, actual clothing-all in black per Steve's request. He didn't want Bucky to feel like the Winter Soldier, but he didn't want to completely isolate him from his comfort zones either.

When Bucky awoke, he let him catch his bearings a moment before he said gently, "Hey." Bucky had fresh bruises on his face courtesy of his head-banging session with the wall of the bubble, but they'd cleaned the blood.

Bucky stared at him silently at first, before he tried to sit up and found himself restrained and he gritted his teeth as he tried to free himself. When he found that he couldn't, his eyes widened and he began writhing frantically.

_"Tie the restraints tighter! Don't let him escape...we don't want his muscles to spasm during the surgery either."_

"No!" Bucky snarled to no one in particular, and Steve could see that unfocused look again. That was, he supposed, how he could tell when Bucky was _with_ _him_ or...not so much.

Steve set a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but Bucky drew a sharp breath and actually _snarled_ at Steve, a wild expression on his face for a moment before Steve started to hum the song he'd sang earlier. And like magic, Bucky twitched and went still. He had no idea why that worked as well as it did, but he wasn't about to complain. "Bucky...look at me. Focus on me. Please."

Bucky's jaw clenched but his eyes swiveled up towards Steve.

Steve's voice was gentle. "Listen, pal...you're safe, I promise you. And right now you need to get some food in you, you haven't been taking care of yourself."

_"You need to take better care of yourself, punk. Drink your milk or you'll never grow up."_

_"That's a lie and you know it."_

_"How'd you think I got so big, dummy?"_

_"Dumb luck." Steve snorted in reply._

Steve could see that he was losing him again, and he picked up the soup as he tried to let the scent waft to Bucky. "Smells good, right? Chicken noodle and stars. Dinner of champions." he smiled.

Bucky frowned. "You make noodles out of chickens?"

Steve almost dropped the bowl. If the situation weren't so completely freaking awful, he might have laughed at the genuine question and confusion on Bucky's part. But in reality, it was so sad that he almost choked. He swallowed hard before he spoke next. "It's...little pieces of chicken, and noodles. And they aren't real stars." he added, in case Bucky was confused about that.

The man sneered. "Obviously." he hissed.

Okay. Because that was the obvious part. Steve would just not comment on that. He picked up a spoonful and held it towards Bucky. "You're suffering from malnutrition and dehydration. That's why you were slower in the-" He didn't really want to bring those memories up, actually. The forest incident was best left forgotten or not dwelled upon, at least. "-You need to eat." he finished lightly.

Bucky eyed him, the spoon, and promptly turned away. "I won't play your game. Kill me, or I'll escape and kill you. It's that simple."

Steve's expression crumbled into one of pain, but he masked it quickly. "Come on, Buck...you need to eat." he brought the spoon closer, and he smiled when Bucky jerked his head around and took a bite. His smile was short-lived when Bucky spit it in his face with a look that could almost be called triumph before he looked away again. Steve wiped his face. _Time for a little tough love then_. He ignored the death threat as he continued on. "If I can't get you to eat this soup, Tony Stark said he's going to have you put on a supplement tube." Bucky didn't move. "An anal tube..." Steve finished in a voice that suggested his sympathies.

Whether from actually detecting in his tone, or because of his understanding of what the would involve, Bucky turned back with a look of malice and said darkly. "Give me the damned soup."

Steve, more pleased than he cared to admit for the quiet moment of taking care of Bucky-much like Bucky had done for him on his bad days, eventually got him to finish the soup and a bottle of water, plus a little juice. Quite an accomplishment. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Bucky's grim expression spoke of murder, and Steve sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. But after a moment, Bucky spoke quietly. And Steve was impressed at how long he'd managed to stay...some semblance of sane and lucid. Hopeful, too.

"Why are you doing this?"

"...If I don't feed you-"

"-That's not what I mean!" Bucky snapped. "Stop playing stupid."

Steve weighed his potential responses carefully before he spoke. "I've already told you. You're Bucky. That's enough."

"Enough for _what_?"

Steve wasn't sure it was an indication of anything that Bucky hadn't denied being himself, or if he was just more concerned with his question. "Enough for me to do whatever I can to help you." Steve said softly, and Bucky's look of frustration returned.

"I...I don't understand!" he snarled, and he tensed in his restraints again.

"I know...but we'll get through it, pal. Together."

The other male shot him a look, for just a brief moment, one with a furrowed brow and pursed lip, frustrated and drawn, and he looked so very Bucky. But then his gaze slid past Steve, to more specters he couldn't see and suddenly Bucky's eyes widened as he began to thrash about in his restraints.

"No! I won't let you! Keep it off of me! Stop it! Stop-agh-no!" he screamed, and Steve actually jumped slightly.

Steve hesitated and then set his hand on Bucky's cheek gently. "Bucky...Bucky, hey, stop. It's over. You're here with me. Just listen to my voice, okay? You're good. Your safe. I won't let anything hurt you again, pal. I promise."

Bucky, through his haze, through visions of being spliced and tortured and sewn back together, could hear a voice that sounded like warmth. And when he found his bearings, there was that man, with a hand on his cheek and looking down at him with another expression he couldn't fathom. He just didn't understand this man at all. Or his strange words and promises. Bucky couldn't understand his motives. "That's good. It'll be even easier to kill you if you don't fight back." he said lowly, and Steve's fingers curled before his hand pulled away.

_The machine roared to life as the surgical tool was activated, and the sharp, whirring metal bit into Bucky's skin-_

" _I'm under your spell. Can't take my eyes off of you. Can't seem to breathe without you near, I need you, dear_." Steve sang.

Bucky's unfocused look faded, yet again, and he looked to Steve with an imperceptible expression. "You haven't killed me yet."

Steve wondered how much of their conversations he actually remembered. He seemed not to be correlating their past conversations, and yet, neither did he seem to be completely regressing so Steve wasn't sure. "I'm not going to." he finally said. "I won't let any one hurt you, I told you."

Bucky just stared at him without reply before he turned away, and Steve sighed before he rose. "I'll let you sleep now. I'll come back later to help you."

"I can take care of myself." Bucky snarled.

Steve didn't bother arguing the obvious point that neither now, nor before, could he seem to do so. Bucky could have, but not the Winter Soldier. Instead, he settled for something nostalgic and with a faint, sad smile he repeated words Bucky had warmly spoken to him long ago. "The thing is, you don't have to." Bucky's eyes widened suddenly. "I'm with you-Bucky? Buck!"

Bucky began to convulse suddenly, and he let out a shout that seemed forced from his throat as his eyes rolled back into his head for a moment. Steve feared that he might have a seizure of some kind, but the convulsion was over quickly as Bucky stared listlessly ahead.

_"Thank you, Buck...but I can get by on my own."_

_There was the scrawny boy, that time he had looked...sad._

_"The thing is, you don't have to. I'm-"_

The splitting pain in his head was enormous, and Bucky hadn't realized he was screaming until he'd woken to find the man-Captain America-staring down at him wide-eyed and speaking frantically. If he could remember those words...if he could remember...but if that was his memory, then...didn't that make him-

_"Bucky! We're gonna be late, stop being such a girl!"_

_"Shut up, punk. I'd be doin' the ladies a disservice if I didn't show up lookin' my best."_

_"By best...you mean like Frankenstein instead of the Wolf-man?" Steve teased._

_"Whatever. I'm naturally awesome and I know it." Bucky drawled._

_"You're something alright." Steve snorted. Bucky primped a second more before he held out his hands and grinned. "How do I look?"_

_Steve appraised his friend, they were on their way to one of his cousins' weddings, and Bucky had decided to invite Steve along. He'd been reticent at first, [shouldn't you take a chick, Buck?] but Bucky had insisted that flying solo with women was a bad habit and he'd rather have his best friend and wingman beside him. And Bucky had insisted that Steve would find a girl, but he knew that was a lie. He'd play along though, and he couldn't be bitter about it. It wasn't Bucky's fault Steve was the way he was, and Bucky had to be the epitome of an ideal best friend. Better than, even. So what if he didn't get invited to dance? At least he was there. That's what he told himself. So he looked at Bucky, filled out and looking sharp at seventeen, hair slicked back and a carefree grin, and internally decided that Bucky was going to tempt even the bride to sin that night.  What he said was, "Eh, not bad. I guess you'll do."_

_"Oh-ho," Bucky laughed before he caught Steve in a one-armed choke-hold, though not with any real force as he ruffled his best friend's hair. "That's high-praise from you, pal. You're usually so picky... I must practically be glowing."_

_"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Buck." Steve drawled, though he was grinning._

_Bucky grinned in reply, and he whistled a jaunty tune as they headed out._

Steve had gotten the sense that Bucky wasn't real up for more interactions, so with a sad sigh, he started to turn away only to still as he felt a trembling hand grip the back hem of his shirt. Bucky had twisted his wrist back as far as it would go to stop him before he was out of reach. Steve stopped and turned around in surprise, to find a flushed Bucky staring at him with tired eyes. And for the first time, he felt like he was seeing past the Winter Soldier's cold gaze. He saw something... _human_ there. Tired, desperate even...confused... _lost_. An unspoken need lingered there. And the last words he expected, although he'd heard them many times before a lifetime ago, poured out of Bucky's mouth in low voice.

"How do I look?"

"What?" Steve whispered, his heart seemed to have stopped a moment. Because he was sure, he was so damned sure that this was a glimpse of Bucky shining through and it was hope and vindication for his efforts all rolled into one.

Bucky's gaze seemed uncertainly suddenly, but Steve wouldn't let him retreat into his shell that easily. "You look like a million bucks. Buck." he smiled and brought his hand down. He tentatively slid it into Bucky's, and gave it a firm squeeze as he held it for a moment. Steve expected Bucky to jerk away from the contact, but instead, Bucky gripped his hand almost painfully tight.

"Look your best." Bucky advised, and he didn't really seem aware that he was speaking. His gaze was just fixed on Steve, and the words were spoken without real inflection, like he was reading aloud from a book. But they were _Bucky's_ words.

Steve felt a lump form in his throat and he blinked away the sudden water in his eyes. "I'll try. You'll still end up looking better though. You always do." he chuckled, bittersweet. That was the sort of honesty he wouldn't have given Bucky then, he would have just made a joke.

The grip on his hand tightened slightly more, and Bucky seemed to try to tug Steve closer which was difficult given his restraints.  Steve obliged and stepped right beside the bed. Bucky stared up at him, and he looked all of the sudden like a lost little kid to Steve. Like he was looking for an answer to a question he didn't know how to ask, and Steve was going to have that answer. But Bucky said nothing, and Steve lifted a hand to gently brush back some of the mess of hair that surrounded Bucky's face. "

_Ugh...my hair's getting too long." Steve griped at twelve while the boys sat in the summer heat, sweating and tired._

_"Mom doesn't have money for the barber right now though." Bucky eyed his friend before he sat up and held out a hand. "Gimme some scissors."_

_Steve shirked. "You want me to trust you with something sharp and pointy? You don't know how to cut hair anyway."_

_"Sure I do. Grab the hair and cut. Snip, snip, snip." he mimed it in the air. "It's not rocket science, Steve."  Bucky rolled his eyes with a smirk. "Scissors." he made a grab motion._

_Steve hesitated and then relented._

_"Scootch over."  Bucky got behind Steve and examined him a moment before he got to work. When all was said and done, the cut wasn't exactly...even. But it was passable. Not as bad as Steve expected, anyway. Bucky admired his handiwork with a grin. "Who needs a barber shop when your best friend is a genius?"_

_"Since mine's not I guess I still need a barber shop." Steve quipped. Any one else, and Bucky would have probably started a fight. But with Steve, it was always allowed and taken fondly. "I'll remember that next time, ya furball." he ruffled Steve's newly chopped hair. He considered it a moment and then passed the scissors to Steve. "Now you do mine."_

_Steve's eyes widened in surprise. Bucky was really touchy about his hair. And his family wasn't wealthy or anything, but he could afford the barber._

_"But, Bucky-_

_Bucky plopped down in front of him. "C'mon. Fair is fair."_

_When it was done, Bucky had a decidedly nice, even cut except for one little bit that Steve's hand slipped on...but in the end, Bucky grinned and clapped Steve's shoulder. "Well, what the Hell, may as well make it a tradition. We'll just cut each other's hair. Keep each other in line."_

_"Really?"_

_Bucky shrugged. "Why not? I like it better the way you do it anyway."_

_Steve doubted that was true, but he appreciated Bucky's covert kindness anyway. Then again, since it was Bucky, it might also be true enough. "It's a deal." he said, and he held out his hand._

_Bucky blinked and grinned as he clapped their hands together and shook them firmly. "Deal, pal."_

"Snip, snip, snip." Bucky muttered as Steve tousled his hair.

Steve's lips twisted and then tightened as he forced himself to keep an even smile. "That's right, pal. Hey, that's not a bad idea, right? Maybe later we'll deal with this mop you call hair." he chanced a tease lightly, and held his breath for the response. He didn't think he'd get one at first, but then Bucky mumbled. "Deal, pal..."

Steve's heart really did catch that time. That had seemed less like a recitation and more like a response. "Bucky...?" But Bucky's mumbled words had been an indication it seemed, and Bucky, exhausted, had fallen asleep. Steve stared down at the broken, battered man in the bed before him. And for a moment, he could see Bucky's grin, could hear his deep laugh, the lilting accent when he sang. Could hear _him_.

_"Smile, Steve. It makes my heart ache when you look all mopey."_

_"Liar."_

_Bucky clutched his heart in mock-agony. "The paiiin, the paaai-oh, there we go. I can breathe again." he gave sigh of relief as he grinned at Steve, who had, as always, given in._

Steve felt a single tear on his cheek as he experienced a feeling he hadn't thought he'd feel again. It was like coming home. And this brief, wonderful moment proved that Bruce had been right. There was hope. There was a chance.

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

**I was supposed to have gone to bed around three and a half hours ago...but...oh well. XD It ended pretty sappily, but after all the death threats and psychosis, I think the Captain needed it. Bucky's just all worn out. Aww, they're so cute. Enjoy! ~Witchy~**


	4. Showdown in Super Town

**I was lucky enough to work in an area where I could kind of space out today. So I had approximately eleven hours to think up how I want this story to go. I'm pretty excited. XD But skipping sleep for story-writing might kill me. So. Hopefully I can finish this bit tonight but we'll see! P.S. Thanks for the reviews! I was grinning at work. XD Enjoy!**

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

Sam had taken a bit of 'me-time' in lieu of the fact that the hunt was over and there was little he could do to assist in Bucky's recuperation. Tony and Bruce seemed to keep their own counsel, and let Steve have the run of the place provided he didn't 'let the Hobo-soldier out of the 'big bubble''. He had gone to bed at some point [yet another facet of the apparently endless Stark tower-opulent guest rooms], but he only slept a few hours. There was too much on his mind, and when he did finally sleep, his dreams were filled with a motley assortment of memories ranging from those of the fond past and those of the grim present.

In either case, although he knew Bucky would be nowhere near 'fixed', he had expected to see some slight improvement given the little break through the night prior.

His expectations were in vain.

Bucky was wide-awake when Steve entered, and in as much as he could given the restraints, his gaze locked on to Steve and followed him eerily as he approached. There was a manic look to his eyes that hadn't been present before, and he felt a trickle of dread at what new side of psycho Bucky might reveal to him now. If Steve had dreamed of memories, perhaps Bucky had too; he shouldn't have left him alone.

"Morning, Buck." Steve adopted a cheery tone as he smiled. It wasn't like he could do much else. "Brought you some breakfast. Toast and eggs, even got you some bacon." he offered.

Bucky continued to stare at him silently, eyes wide and fixed.

Steve swallowed and after a moment, inclined his head as he kept up his smile. "Well...okay, I'll take that as a 'yes'..." There was a small keypad attached to a pole that controlled the entry to the bubble, a thin doorway in the doorway that was sealed completely when it was closed to prevent interior escape. There was a panic button inside the room in case of an emergency [i.e. some stupid intern locking themselves in-according to Tony] but it only sounded an alarm, it still didn't open the room.

Steve therefore left it open as he made his way to Bucky. Tony and Bruce had given him permission [like he needed it] to visit without supervision since Bucky was thoroughly bound. He couldn't hurt himself if he tried.

"Got some orange juice too, pal." Steve tried to keep the conversation normal as he moved beside Bucky's bed and set the tray on the small, round table beside the bed. No sharp edges on anything, all rounded corners and plastic just in case. Same with the cups and silverware. All the while, Bucky just kept up his silent stare. Steve tried not to let his apprehension show. He wasn't afraid of Bucky, he was afraid of screwing up _fixing_ Bucky. He couldn't fail him again, Bucky _needed_ him, and he was going to pull through, damnit.

Somehow.

"Juice." Steve nearly jumped, taken aback by the sudden sound of Bucky's voice. It was low, almost monotone, but he'd spoken.

"Y-Yeah, you got it, pal." he stepped over with the juice and started to bring it to Bucky's lips. No sooner did the cup touch than Bucky's metallic arm swung up from the left side and slammed into Steve's head with impossible force. Steve stumbled back in surprise and a bit of disorientation as Bucky jumped out of the bed. Apparently the bindings hadn't been as super-soldier proof as he'd thought despite testing them. He didn't know if that meant that Bucky was actually stronger, or he'd gotten an adrenaline rush from a fit of rage or something similar.

He didn't give Steve a chance to so much as straighten as he slammed another fist into his head, followed by a knee to his gut. When he doubled over slightly, Bucky used his free hand to pull Steve down the rest of the way by the neck where he rammed the knee into Steve's chest, followed by a metallic punch to the throat that would have certainly broken a normal man's neck. As it was, even for a super soldier, a punch directly to the throat was by no means pleasant and Steve choked as his breath caught for a second. Pain assailed him. Super-soldier to super-soldier upped the ante, and more than a super-soldier, Bucky was the _Winter Soldier_. Captain America was trained to fight, the Winter Soldier _was_ the fight.

Steve, still choking from the crushing blow to his throat, lifted his arms to defend himself and tried to land a firm kick and then punch. He expected the Winter Soldier to make good on his attempt to kill him. But instead, he heard the click of buttons and clash of doors as Bucky escaped and locked him in the bubble-room instead. His eyes widened. "N-No!" he wheezed as he gripped his throat while he ran to the entrance. "B-Bucky, stop!"

Steve coughed and winced as he met Bucky's gaze.  For some reason, the Winter Soldier had paused and watched Steve with the first hint of expression he'd shown that morning. It was a frown. "You _know_ me...you know I'm telling the truth...you are Bucky Barnes. You were born in Brooklyn. We grew up together, you're my best friend, Hell, you're like a brother to me. Those Hydra creeps messed with your head. I'm begging you, please. Please don't leave. I can't lose you again, Buck." He didn't want to call it a last resort, but he hoped the sincere plead might reach something in the other man. Despite his threats, he hadn't tried to kill Steve. That had to mean _something_ , right?

Something unreadable crossed Bucky's expression for an instant. And then there was a look that Steve might have called temptation as Bucky's hand hovered above the keypad. But then his hand lowered. "I am the Winter Soldier. Bucky Barnes is dead." Whether that was him or not, that much was true. "Try to find me again, and I _will_ kill you." Bucky turned to leave but Steve spoke quickly.

"Why didn't you?" Steve asked. "Just now. You said you would. Maybe you even could have. But you're letting me go, why?"

Bucky's back had already turned to Steve, but he'd paused mid-step and after a split second, his gaze slid back to Steve. "I don't know." he said simply. And then he ran, he disappeared into the doorway and Steve stood stunned a moment before he cursed and hit the panic button.

......

The Winter Soldier raced through the hallways. A limited portion of his training had involved a study of layouts. He always knew the exact layout for a job, but just in case, he'd been trained based on architecture to have a general idea of how a place was set up. It made for more efficient escapes and searches in the potential [but unlikely] case that a target somehow eluded him. He took the first flight of stairs he came to and continued downward, all the while thoughts pecked at the back of his mind. Thoughts about what the man had said, and the fact that he truly didn't know why he hadn't completed his mission and killed him. To say that it was a feeling he had would be a foreign concept to him. Feelings, desires, wants, fears; they weren't necessary in a weapon and that was all that he was. Even if on some vague chance that he had somehow been that Bucky Barnes once...he was that man no longer, and it no longer mattered.

He knew of curiosity at least, enough to blame it for why he'd gone to the Smithsonian, but he'd had enough. Every time he tried to think too hard, to remember, to think about that damned Captain America or Bucky, he lost control. It was better to be empty.

........

It didn't take Tony long to make his way to the room, and he quickly assessed the scene as Bruce came up behind him. "Get Captain Idiot out of there, I'll deal with Hobo Soldier." he growled. He had determined that Bucky had escaped, and it was imperative that he be re-captured quickly. Not because of Steve, because that was just a secondary matter as far as he was concerned, but because the Winter Soldier was a highly-skilled, unhinged mercenary, and too dangerous to be allowed to let roam. Tony suited up and from a balcony took to the skies. He had to find him.

Bruce opened the room and Steve shouted a quick thanks as he ran past. He, like Tony, was aware that time was of the essence because true to his reputation, the Winter Soldier would disappear like a ghost. And Steve wasn't sure he'd be given a second chance.

........

The Winter Soldier had made it outside, although he was a little bloodier for it since he'd burst through a window and garnered a few scrapes. He had on a shirt and baggy pants that had been altered to allow for the urinal device during his restraint, and socks. He would correct that later, but the priority was escape and he filtered his potential options. His run was cut short however, as the sound of an approaching blast caught his attention and he jerked and rolled sideways just in time to avoid an energy explosion from...Ironman.

"Going somewhere, Hobo?" Tony's voice was slightly tinny through the suit, but the Winter Soldier had known his identity anyway.

He had no desire to engage the iron giant, and promptly took off again.

Tony kicked the jets into gear and blasted ahead where he hovered in front of the Winter Soldier. "Hey, you know, it's rude not to answer when someone talks to you. Especially when it's me. Guess I need to teach you some manners." And so saying, he made as if to blast the Winter Soldier, who ducked accordingly and he attempted a high-powered kick.

But to his surprise, the Winter Soldier had apparently predicted...his prediction. He caught the kick easily with his metal arm before he yanked Tony towards him and used the same hand to deliver a punishing punch to his face mask. Tony was sent flying back a good few paces, and the Winter Soldier was off again. "Son of a-" he kicked the jets into gear and again headed after the Winter Soldier.

As he rounded a corner, he found the street empty save for the usual passerby who immediately burst into shouts of, "It's Ironman! Look! Ironman!"

Generally one for applause, Tony kept his focus on finding the soldier. Unfortunately, said soldier was a step ahead.

Less than fifteen feet away, an SUV exploded and the force was enough to send it slamming upside down into the asphalt. It was also enough to jar Tony and send him clattering to the ground for a moment. He cursed as he pulled himself up. The guy had made a home-made car bomb out of who-knows-what in maybe a minute and a half, and got a clean get-away to boot. The Winter Soldier was more than dangerous, he was a freaking evil genius and Tony was going to enjoy locking his psycho-a** up. He prepared to continue the chase when he realized a woman was crying, and found that a light pole had fallen from the explosion and pinned a child's leg. However much he wanted to pursue the Winter Soldier, the girl took priority.

"Hold still, kid, I gotcha." Ironman lifted the pole, and the relieved mother and child cried and hugged each other. The girl was otherwise unharmed and he resumed pursuit, made all the easier by the shield that went whizzing past his head before it ricocheted back.

.........

The Winter Soldier, now shirtless as he'd used his shirt as fabric for the bomb ignition, pounded pavement secure in that he'd managed to elude Ironman. What he didn't expect was the sudden body in his path as Captain America, wearing civilian clothing save for his shield as he hadn't had time to don his suit, whirled said shield at him. Winter dodged and the shield flew past as he scanned the area for his options. But it didn't seem like the man wanted to talk any more, because he charged Winter and began an assault.

They were evenly matched for the moment, until Steve landed a firm kick on his gut where his stitches were. But super-soldier healing came in handy, and it wasn't as painful as it had been. Winter jerked slightly, but delivered an immediate punch back that forced Steve to take a step back. The pair regarded each other for a moment.

"I'm taking you back, Buck...you need help."

"I told you what would happen if you came after me." Winter said lowly.

Steve smiled, and Winter was confused because he thought smiles indicated pleasure. He couldn't gauge how sad that smile was, and took it to mean that Steve wanted to fight him. "Sorry, Buck. But I'm not ready to die, or to let you go."

Winter had no response to that, other than to launch an attack of his own. The match was too even, they matched hit for hit with both having super-human pain thresholds. Right up until Winter was blasted in the side and hurled into a building, courtesy of Ironman.

Steve looked angry with Tony, but it seemed that Captain Crunch knew better than to argue because it had needed to be done. And when the soldier got back up, a little shaky but otherwise no worse for wear, he was a bit relieved. Because he kind of wanted to beat the snot out of the other man. He understood the other's tragic back story and all that, and he was Steve's BFF or whatever, but something about the man ticked him off. Tony couldn't explain it, but when he looked at the Winter Soldier, his gut just twisted.

The Winter Soldier looked between them a moment, and it seemed he was well and truly backed into a corner until there was a gasp in the bushes behind him. As it turned out, a pregnant woman who had been too slow to flee had taken refuge in the bushes, but a sudden contraction in her stomach caused the audible gasp of pain. This next bit was a human reaction that Winter understood would work, even if he couldn't grasp _why_ it did.

Steve and Ironman both seemed to understand his intent, but they were too slow and Winter grabbed the woman up as he held his metallic hand on her throat and kept her arms behind her back with his free hand. "Attack, she dies." Winter said simply.

"Bastard." Tony hissed beneath his mask.

Steve's eyes widened. He knew what the Winter Soldier was, but to see Bucky standing before him saying those things, threatening a pregnant woman...it cut him to the quick. It wasn't Bucky, Bucky would have died first. They had twisted his friend so terribly, and in that moment, he wondered if there really was a chance. Even if they could bring back Bucky's memories...what would be left to save?

.......

Bruce, slower than his comrades in his human form, had chosen to come prepared. He had a tranquilizing agent that while not quite strong enough to work on the Hulk, would probably leave even a super-soldier out for a couple of days. Bruce loaded the tranq gun and got in the car. It didn't take long to find them, he'd just had to drive where throngs of people were running away in terror. He arrived in time to see Tony blast him into a wall, and as he left his car and prepared to shoot, he saw him grab the pregnant woman.

The woman sobbed. "Please, let me go...please." She gasped suddenly. "My baby...my baby, please...something's wrong...!"

Winter's expression didn't so much as flicker, in fact, his grip on her neck seemed to tighten slightly as if in annoyance.

That was all it took.

" **Tony**." Bruce's voice was a hoarse shout above the receding din. Ironman whirled around in time to see Bruce's body clench, and he could see the flash of green in his eyes even from a distance. "Get every one to run."

"Aww, s***." Tony addressed Steve quickly. "As soon as you can, grab the girl, then get the Hell out of dodge." And with that, he jetted off to clear the remaining passerby and those even at a distance. The Hulk was too unpredictable, and while he wanted to make sure the woman was safe, he'd have to trust Steve to it because his jets would be faster than Steve's footwork.

Winter looked between them and seemed to realize suddenly what was about to happen. There was no guarantee that the Hulk would balk at attacking just because he was holding the woman. Perhaps he would, but he couldn't take that chance. He shoved the woman forward, and she would have hit pavement had not Steve run up to grab her. "Hold on, ma'am." And with that, he picked her up as gently as he could and ran her to safety at the same time a fully-emerged Hulk roared and charged the retreating Winter Soldier.

"Here you are, ma'am." Steve said, when they'd reached a safe place. "Are you alright, can you call someone?"

The woman nodded shakily, sobbing before she embraced Steve and thanked him profusely, before she headed off phone in hand. Steve started to leave to head back to the fray, but when he turned, he was faced with a woman who looked entirely too calm for the situation.

"That was kind of you. Thank you. Children are so very important." The woman said. She was tall, lithe and leggy with a loose, tan dress and straight, long brown hair nearly to her waist. She had luminous blue eyes, and for some reason, Steve found himself feeling a little muggy looking into them.

"I'd like to do something for you...you must have a desire...name anything, and it shall be yours." she took a step closer, to which Steve took a step back.

He had somewhere he needed to be, didn't he? Why-

"There must be something." she continued as she took another step forward and set her hand on his bicep. She tilted her head and then smiled. "Ah...there we have it...consider it done, hero." The woman leaned up and kissed his cheek suddenly, and Steve jerked away. Whatever strange haze he'd found himself in cleared and as he went to explain that he needed to leave, he found the woman was gone.

"What the...?" But he didn't have time to dwell on it, he couldn't afford to leave the Hulk alone with Bucky any longer.

By the time Steve got back just a few minutes later, there were several broken cars, a piece of building missing, and Bucky-being slammed on the ground like a rag doll. "Wait! Stop! That's enough!" he ran forward, and the Hulk whirled around to face him. "Good Hulk. Bruce. Stop. We don't want him dead."

The Hulk's nostrils flared and he let out a roar as he slammed a hand into Steve and sent him flying back into a wall. The super-soldier crumbled with a groan before he stumbled to his feet. The Hulk was just about to slam Bucky again when Ironman zipped up.

"Hey! Jolly! Put him down. Drop it." Steve was sure Tony was about to get smacked out of the air, but instead, the Hulk let out a snarl and spoke. "Not...Jolly! Hulk!"

"Yeah, yeah. Just put the guy down and let Captain-Crunch-For-Brains hold him."

"Crunch Brains..." Hulk repeated slowly.

Steve was stunned. What the Hell was with these two? Did their bond as Tony and Bruce influence Ironman and Hulk's relationship, or was he missing something?

"Down, Hulk. There's a good Hulk." Tony coaxed.

Hulk seemed reluctant, and more than a little annoyed, but with a huff he hurled Bucky to the ground.

Steve winced as he was sure he heard a bone break somewhere, or perhaps it was just Bucky's skull cracking pavement, either way...he came forward cautiously just in case and surveyed the other. He seemed well and truly unconscious, and his already beat-up appearance was positively frightening now. He looked like a Halloween monster, and there was no humor intended in that thought. Steve cast a hesitant glance at the Hulk who huffed again, and then he pulled the other man up into his arms. He was struck by memories of times Bucky had done the same for him.

_Their attempt to climb the roof and star-gaze had gone swell, right until they were climbing down and Steve slipped about halfway. Thirteen-year old Bucky plum hopped off the rest of the way as he began to look over Steve anxiously. "Hey, you alright, pal?"_

_"M-My leg...I think it's broken..." Steve moaned. They would later find out that he'd only sprained his ankle._

_"S***." Bucky swore, as he was wont to do whenever his mother [or Steve's] wasn't around. He stared a moment as he considered their options. It would take too long to try and hobble Steve home by just giving him a shoulder, and he didn't want to make it worse... And if he had the other piggy-back him, he wouldn't be able to grab the other's leg to keep him up, and then his leg would still be wiggling... "Well, Hell..." The boy suddenly arranged himself at Steve's side, and started to slide his arms under the other._

_Steve stiffened. "What are you-hey-wait, you can't!"_

_Bucky went for it and grabbed Steve as he struggled to pull him up. Steve was slight, but Bucky was only thirteen and not exactly developed. Still, after a great deal of red-faced effort, he got straight up on his feet and after a long breath, started walking._

_"Bucky! You can't carry me all the way home!" Steve protested. "I'm fine, my leg's just-aghh." Steve cut off as his attempt to move it proved painful._

_"Hold still, Steve." Bucky snapped, and then his voice became playful. "Besides, a runt like you doesn't weigh anythin'. I got ya, pal."_

_"But, Bucky..."_

_"No buts." And despite Steve's doubts, around an hour later, a very tired Bucky made it home with Steve in his arms. Later, when they realized it was only a sprained ankle, Steve had been sheepish and figured Bucky would be mad. But instead he'd just laughed, whacked Steve on the head, and informed Steve that he owed him a soda._

"Typical." Steve murmured at the thought as he carried the battered body of his best friend. But would he ever really be his best friend again? Would he ever hear that laugh again? Him singing? Hell, he'd even be happy to hear some of his corny pick-up lines, if it just meant that Bucky was himself again.

..............

Several hours later, Bruce was back and a bit sheepish when informed of all that had occurred. Tony seemed thoroughly annoyed about something. And Steve was miserable.

Because Bucky was now beyond being allowed in the bubble room. There were a few holding cells in the basement of the building, one in particular which had been designed for Loki _just in case_. Asgardian god-proof meant super-soldier proof. Bucky had a single cot bed on the wall, his hands and legs were manacled by several inches of iron and a plastic compound like the one used for the bubble room, and a chain connected them. There was one on his neck as well, attached from a chain at the same source. And beyond that was the chain that connected his ankle manacles to the iron mount on the floor. There was no comfort possible in that condition, but it was the only condition that Tony would accept for not keeping Bucky under constant sedative.

Steve peered into the cell through the single window, and he winced as he saw Bucky toss and turn. Was he having a nightmare? But he couldn't do anything, for now, he needed to give Bucky space on Bruce's orders. Being re-captured and beaten to a pulp by the Hulk was not going to have led to improvement, and seeing Steve could further incense and upset Bucky. The other's fists clenched as he jerked suddenly, and Steve looked away with a pained expression.

_Twelve-year old Bucky had been fast asleep in his and Steve's makeshift fort when he found himself kicked in the stomach. He awoke angry, and started to huff at Steve when he realized the other wasn't awake and was in fact muttering frantically and squirming. A nightmare. "Steve...Steve, buddy." Bucky mumbled sleepily as he shook the other's shoulder. "C'mon, wake up, Stev-"_

_Steve jolted upright and whipped his head around, straight into Bucky's. "OW!" Bucky shouted, more in surprise though pain was involved as well. He rubbed his head as Steve did the same._

_"B-Buck? Sorry! Ow.." he added with a wince as he rubbed his head. "Was I...uh..."_

_"Nightmare.." Bucky confirmed in a grumble before he added more softly. "Do you remember it?"_

_"Not really..." "_

_Figures." Bucky muttered as he yawned, and Steve berated himself mentally for being such a baby. But then he found an arm draped over his shoulder as Bucky pulled him a little closer. "Buck, uh, what-" "Read somethin' about how heartbeats make you sleep better or somethin'." "_

_That's babies, Buck."_

_"Yeah, and you're a crybaby, so shut up and go to sleep." Bucky was grumpy when he was tired._

_"I am not." Steve grumbled, and he wanted to move away. This was embarrassing enough, but...in truth, he remembered his nightmare. He was in the center of a group of kids, they were taking turns ripping at his clothes and hair, hurling insults as well as injuries, and crying-he looked to Bucky for help. Bucky walked away._

_Losing his one and only friend was a nightmare of the highest degree, and he didn't want Bucky to know that. He'd probably think it was weird. Bucky couldn't understand, he had lots of friends besides Steve._

_But there was one thing at least, Steve noted as he relented and snuggled up into Bucky's side, relieved when the warm arm came around him and Bucky began a familiar snore by his ear._

_Steve was the only friend Bucky ever let sleep over, so he was sure he was the only one whose nightmares Bucky chased away. And once or twice, though Bucky never said what it had been about, Steve had done the same for him. That was something, right? "_

_Night, Buck." Steve whispered into the dark before he eventually let sleep take him. He didn't awake again until morning, still tucked up against Bucky and not bothered by that at all._

Steve felt like he'd been reliving his childhood strictly with Bucky. Even before Bucky had been found, he'd dwelled on every memory, every moment. He'd clung to them desperately, afraid they might disappear along with the man who'd made them.

_"Another nightmare, huh?" Bucky yawned, fourteen years old._

_"It's fine.." Steve hedged, but Bucky shook his head and blinked blearily._

_"Don't gotta be afraid when I'm with ya, Steve. I won't let anythin' hurt ya, not ever. You know that. I'll protect ya, so go to sleep." Bucky yawned again._

_Steve did, and as always, Bucky chased the nightmares away._

Steve had thought when he'd become Captain America, things would be different. He wouldn't feel like their relationship was so one-sided [although Bucky always reassured him that Steve gave him more than he knew]. He could protect Bucky, fight beside him as an equal, chase _his_ fears away.  But as he looked at the broken man in the cell before him, and thought of the proud, happy man he'd been, so full of life and spirit, all he could think about was the fact that it was his fault. If Bucky were lost, it was only because Steve had lost him. And if Bucky found himself, where would that leave them? Even if Bucky still wanted Steve in his life, he doubted Bucky would still want to be in the fray, and Steve wasn't even sure about his own life situation at this point now that Shield was disbanded and the hunt was over, so...where did they go from there? What came next?

Would Bucky be beside him to find out?

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

**Still going to bed late, dangit! But once you're [almost there-as you keep telling yourself], it's hard to stop. And you get all caught up, and gahhh. Mini-fight scene. I hate writing fight scenes. XD But it's kinda fun when Hulk can just come in and school them. Tony and Bruce's quirky friendship continues. And next chapter...little Winter Soldier? Dun dun dun! And probably more sappy flashbacks. Because they're fun and have a point and I can. So there. XD Reviews are hugs to my soul. Just saying. Enjoy!~Witchy~**


	5. Lost in the Finding

**I have so much feels for these peeps, [Bucky in particular], right now that I don't know what to do with myself. I have so much need to write that it's almost stalling me. XD Agh. Finished my first final exam of college though, summer break now. Bit more time to write. Ish. Enjoy! Thanks for the reviews, faves, and alerts! I get all giddy when I get them. XD Enjoy!~**

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

When all was said and done, it was nearly midnight when Steve, Bruce, and Tony plopped down in the Stark Tower equivalent of a bar/lounge area, where Tony had once offered Loki a drink.

"I'd offer you a drink," Tony started conversationally, "But you can't actually get drunk, so it's pointless. And sad. Support group sad."

"I am capable of being thirsty, you know." Steve pointed out, but his heart wasn't in it. His thoughts were on the battered man in the cell many flights below them.

"Really? Congratulations. You want a cookie?" Steve snorted through his nose and rolled his eyes slightly. But before Tony could make another quip, he addressed Bruce who seemed lost in thought. "He seemed...different. He was all Winter Soldier. No episodes, no crazy-talk...he was...well, he got the drop on me."

"You say that like it's hard." Tony said with a raised brow.

Steve ignored him and kept his focus on Bruce, who considered that before he replied. "With any...disorder, there are always better and worse days. The more he tries to remember, the worse it's going to get before it ever really gets better. It may be that he fell back on instinct and stopped trying to...think about things. Espionage comes as easily to him, for example, as reading does to you or I. Combat. Deception. Strategy. They're ingrained into him. Even in a poor state, he can fall back onto those automatic responses. It's possible he...went into auto-pilot, so to speak, and stopped trying to actively remember. The decreased mental stress made him more lucid. That would be my guess."

Steve was fairly sure he understood all that. But he didn't like the implication. If the Winter Soldier was dominant, Bucky wouldn't go slamming his head into walls. But the inverse was that Bucky wouldn't be coming out at all. "When he took that woman hostage..." Steve trailed off and his jaw clenched at the memory.

"He's not in his right mind." Bruce said gently, and when Tony interjected this time, he seemed genuinely irritated.

"So what? He gets a get-out-of-jail free card for all the crappy things he does because he's crazy? You two are way too optimistic."

"It's not his fault, Tony." Steve retorted, nearly a snap. "What's been done to him-"

"-Is terrible. I get that. He served his country and got royally screwed for it. Hey, if you could fix him, that'd be just fine by me. But let's face it, you think you can undo seventy years of torture, death, and mayhem with chicken noodle soup and sob stories about a past he doesn't remember? Wake up, Cap. You're dreaming."

Steve was silent for a moment, struck by the words and their harsh meaning. But he couldn't accept that. "Yeah? Well, the dream's all I've got."

"And you know what any one who crossed the path of the Winter Soldier's got? Nothing. Because they're _dead_. Even if he gets his memory back, you think you can slap a band-aid on that kind of misery? You might be doing him a favor to just kill him now-"

Steve had risen in an instant, and his expression was furious as he glared down at Tony. "- _Stop it_." he snapped. "No one is killing Bucky. Understand? I will fix him. You're wrong. Bucky is a good man. And you're not exactly in line for a sainthood, Tony." he added sharply. Some of the bricks in the Stark Empire had been most certainly mortared with blood, from what he'd heard.

Tony's expression didn't change, but there was a coldness to his eyes as he said lowly. "Is he worth it?"

Steve was a bit taken aback by the question, and he didn't have to try to think about it. Memories came to him unbidden. Memories of when he'd been a 'scrawny kid from Brooklyn who was too dumb to run from a fight'. There was Bucky: defending him, laughing with him, helping him breathe, chasing his nightmares away, protecting him, getting hurt for him, treating him like an equal, calling him a brother, following him into war, promising to be with him till the end, treating him like a human, like a person when no one else would. People had treated Steve like a low-life or monster for being different, but not Bucky. Not once. And what the Winter Soldier had done, that wasn't Bucky, that wasn't his fault. But even if it was, Steve knew in his heart he couldn't have turned his back on Bucky. Even if every one else thought he was a monster, even if it was them against the world, Steve wasn't going anywhere. He was in it till the end of the line too. "He's worth it and more. I'm bringing Bucky home." he said firmly.

Bruce, who had remained silent for the exchange, glanced between the pair with a thoughtful look.

Tony, for his part, eyed Steve and then shrugged. "Your funeral. I'll send you flowers. Something patriotic to show your pride as America's favorite flaming soldier. I'm thinking rainbows and glitter."

"Is everything a joke to you?"

"Not really. Just most people." Tony replied without missing a beat as he rose. "Let me make this clear. I'll let you use my facility, it lets me keep an eye on him anyway. But if he slips up, if he steps out of line, if he is responsible for the death of one more person...that's on you-"

"-He won't." Steve started to interject, but Tony continued.

"-And I _will_ take him out."

Silence descended for a moment as a stare-down between Steve and Tony commenced.  Steve's jaw clenched again while Tony, impassive, stared up at Steve evenly.

"I can't let you do that." Steve finally said.

"Try and stop me." Tony challenged, and Steve's eyes narrowed.

"And on that note." Bruce rose. "I think we've all had a long day. I suggest we bring the evening to a close. Unless you two feel like taking it up with my less personable alter-ego." he advised warningly, a firm glance between the two of them. If Fury was the 'father' of their little group, then Bruce was the stern older brother. The one who seemed really respectable and high-moraled, but if you pissed him off...

Tony held up his hands as if in surrender, and yawned dramatically. "Yeah, it is a snoozefest around here anyway...but, one more thing..." his tone had started out drawling, but turned serious as he regarded Steve. "If it comes to it. If it really comes down to saving him, or saving someone from him...are you going to be able to make the right choice?"  Steve was spared an answer as Tony gave a mock-salute to he and Bruce and left.

Steve stared after him before he felt Bruce squeeze his shoulder as he passed by. "You have some time. Do with it what you can."

And with that, Bruce left as well and Steve was left to wonder what he meant by those words. He had some time.

And if that time ran out?

.........

They all headed back to their mutual rooms. The guest rooms weren't intended to be long-term living quarters, but given that they were housing the Winter Soldier in the basement, it seemed prudent to just stay at Stark Tower. Tony, irritated for reasons he himself didn't quite understand, flipped through channels on the t.v. and found himself wanting Pepper by his side. But he'd sent her on business out of state...purely for business, not because he'd wanted to protect her from the hobo-soldier or anything sweet like that. He didn't really pay attention to the channels he'd flipped through however, until he stopped on a news report that made him pause.

_"Cold-blooded murder has taken on a new meaning today. Early this morning the Fairfolk Municipal Bank was the site of a robbery-gone-wrong that left six people dead. Details about the situation are still being investigated, but it seems that around nine forty-five a.m. this morning, a man entered the bank and demanded money from the safe. When the teller began to do as he'd asked, he suddenly went on a rampage and stabbed six people to death. A policeman passing by came on to the scene just in time to find the man writing on the walls...in blood. Here's a photo of the chilling scene."_

_The photograph showed bloody letters scrawled on the wall, and it read in messy, dripped lettering 'WINTER IS OVER'._

_"The man surrendered when faced with the officer's gun and has been taken into custody and will be transferred to a prison upstate, he is considered highly dangerous. A memorial service will be held Monday. We send out condolences to the families of the victims for their terrible loss."_

Tony flicked off the t.v. with a curse. Ironman didn't do bank robberies, but if he had known...then he might have been able to save those people. Instead, he was busy chasing after...the Winter Soldier. "Winter is over..." he murmured as a thought crossed his mind. He didn't really believe in coincidence...but then, who else knew where the Winter Soldier was? And why the dramatic message at a bank robbery that they wouldn't have even seen if Tony hadn't been channel-surfing? Well, he'd keep an eye out... ........

Steve found himself again unable to drift off to sleep so easily. There were too many things weighing on him, not the least of which were Tony's words echoing in his ears.

Saving Bucky, or saving someone from Bucky. What would be the right choice?

And which choice would he make?

.............

_"Bucky...let me help you, please. Before it's too late."_

_The Winter Soldier stood at the edge of building, and Steve was eerily aware of every drop of blood that trickled down Bucky's metallic arm._

_And then they were on a train in the frozen tundra, and it was the Winter Soldier who gripped the railing in a desperate attempt not to fall. Steve held out his hand._

_Then it was Bucky in the middle of camp wearing his Howling Commandos uniform, a gun in his hand._

_"Bucky, please." Bucky watched Steve without expression and slowly lifted his arm as he aimed the gun right at him. "It's already too late, Steve."_

_He fired._

Steve woke up with a start right around sunrise, he'd only had around five hours of sleep [yet again] and that wasn't exactly easy on him even as a super-soldier. But the dreams were worse, Tony had jinxed him.

_"It's already too late, Steve."_ The dream-Bucky's voice rang in his ears, and he tried to put it from his mind. He couldn't accept that.

Steve took a fast shower, scarfed down some toast he wasn't he really hungry for, and prepared himself for what might be awaiting him now. If Bucky had taken being a semi-captive poorly, he wasn't likely going to enjoy being in chains. In fact, it was probably the worst possible thing to have done. But it was Tony's condition for not keeping him mind-numbingly sedated and Steve didn't exactly have anywhere else to keep a super-soldier under wraps.

Steve made his way to the 'dungeon' as he was starting to think of it, and he thought of different possible scenarios that might be about to occur. But none of them were remotely close to the sight that greeted him as he found the cell and entered.

Steve's jaw actually dropped a little. Or more, it just hung open a bit as he stared with unblinking eyes, unable to properly comprehend what he was seeing. Steve had seen monsters burst out of the sky, led by a magic-wielding Asgardian God, he'd seen the _Hulk_ , he himself was a bit a legend as far as that went. But it was a sucker-punch in the stomach to see the impossible and painfully familiar sight before him.

It was Bucky. As he'd been nearly ninety years ago. The leg and wrist manacles had fallen off, the only one that fit was the collar on his neck. His clothes were now entirely too big and hung loosely off his slight form. The mess of hair had receded to hang just past his ears, to frame a face which no longer held bruises, cuts, or a crooked nose. The face, the body-now free of it's metallic arm, the _everything_ were all too familiar to him. It was Bucky Barnes, not more than eight years old.

"Bucky?" he breathed, and then he noted that the other was having a nightmare. Bucky's young expression twisted, his fists clenched and he writhed a little as he mumbled something that Steve couldn't catch. He stared, unable to believe what he was seeing, still finding it hard to process...but even so...it was Bucky. This couldn't be a trick. The Winter Soldier hadn't magically escaped and left a doppelganger of his child self in his place. Loki was in some Asgardian prison. And so far as he knew, there was no one else teeming with mysterious power who would feel like doing something like that. Which didn't explain how it had happened at all but...but it was Bucky.

Steve moved to the edge of the bed where he sat on the edge and brought his hand to Bucky's shoulder as he shook him gently. "Buck...Bucky...? Hey, pal, wake up-"

There was a gasp and a small fist flew at Steve's head as Bucky jerked awake and moved to attack on instinct. Steve moved his body to the side in an instinctive dodge, and then watched as Bucky stared at him with wide eyes a moment and withdrew his fist. He seemed confused but quickly he regained clarity enough to realize who was before him, and what was on his neck.

Bucky's left arm shot out, presumably in thinking to use his metallic arm, but instead it was a thin, flesh and blood arm with a small hand that wound up gripping Steve's throat. He had probably thought to choke Steve, but that obviously wasn't a possibility now.

"Bucky-" he started soothingly, because obviously it was still the Winter Soldier in there, given his reaction, and he wasn't sure how Bucky would take realizing what had happened to him.

Not well, as it turned out.

Bucky had a truly confused expression as he stared at his arm, perhaps the most emotion he'd seen on the other's face since the moment he'd broken down a bit and started talking like Bucky. His hand withdrew from Steve's throat and he clenched and unclenched small fingers as he glanced down at himself. Bucky's body trembled slightly, and it was then that Steve had started to speak but Bucky cut him off as the now-boy lunged for him.

Small fingers they were, but his nails dug into Steve's cheeks as he gripped him by the mouth. "What did you do to me?" he shouted. "What is this?" he demanded, and there was murder in his eyes. But it was a look of fury, and that made Steve just slightly relieved. This was not the mania-driven rage, or the cold-blooded instinct, this was a genuine response of anger, he had been confused. That was something _human_.

Steve didn't want to incite his rage further, and he didn't want to hurt him by accident. Bucky had gone from unbreakable to impossibly fragile overnight, literally. And he was still processing it all the while of trying to help Bucky deal with it. He brought his hand up to remove Bucky's from his face gently, and Bucky drew his hand back sharply, enough to draw a thin line of blood from one nail on his cheek. Steve held up his hands in a non-threatening way, and when Bucky seemed about to lunge again, he put them behind his back and scooted back a little. "Hold on! Wait a second! It wasn't me!"

Bucky froze, eyes narrowed on Steve and expression dangerous. "You expect me to believe that?"

Steve filtered through potential answers as fast as he could, determined to find one that wouldn't upset him further, one that would convince him that Steve was telling the truth. He blurted out, "Yes!"

Bucky's sneer showed him how poorly he'd done and the other moved at him again. But the distance was greater since Steve had scooted back, and forced to actually lean his body, he was made to actually feel the weight of the collar on his neck. He fell chest-first before he caught himself, and with some effort, righted himself. His hands flew to the collar as he tugged at it angrily, but it wouldn't be removed without the proper code. Tony had declined to give it to Steve, lest he 'do something stupid'.

Steve's hands flew forward in concern to catch him, but Bucky had already righted himself and he let his hands drop as he spoke quickly. "Look, I don't know how to make you believe me. But I swear, this...this." he gestured to Bucky, who returned to focusing narrowed eyes on him. "I didn't know until I saw you just now. I don't even know how it's possible. It shouldn't be. Even for us...this is really...impossible."

"Who else would it be?" Bucky snarled through gritted teeth.

"I don't know. It wasn't me. I know Tony and Bruce didn't do it. How would we even do it?"

"Stark's machines, Banner's chemical compounds, an unknown resource." Bucky filtered through possibilities clinically.  Steve was struck by the realization that this might be the most direct conversation he'd had with the Winter Soldier yet. He was comprehending Steve and making responses, and he seemed clear and lucid. When he was lucid as the Winter Soldier, he'd spoken in clipped phrases at best and shown no emotion. What did that mean?

"We didn't do this, Buck. I swear."

"Then why am I still alive?" he demanded, not for the first time.

Steve stared at the 'child' before him. Words like that shouldn't be coming from Bucky at all, but like _that_... "Because you deserve to be." he said, a wealth of unspoken emotions pouring through and he couldn't help himself as he reached his hand up to run his fingers through Bucky's hair. He expected violence, but to his surprise, Bucky had fallen still at his words and he seemed at a loss for a response. He seemed not to be able to understand.

"Take the collar off." Bucky finally growled as he smacked Steve's hand way, though not as viciously as he might have before.

Steve lowered his hand obligingly, but a guilty look crossed his face at the demand. "I don't know the code, Tony wouldn't give it to me..." _But I couldn't open it even if I did_ , went unsaid. The Winter Soldier could hardly be considered a threat in his present state, but then again, devious and skilled as he was...he could do a lot with nothing. He'd been filled in about how Bucky had made a make-shift car-bomb almost instantly. And if he ran...

Bucky's anger returned full force in an instant. "Your lies aren't fooling me." he snapped, and then he paused as his brow furrowed and Steve noted that look in his eyes again, like when he was remembering something. He felt his heart sink, because that look heralded Bucky's mania.

_Seventeen year old Bucky lay on the windshield of a dingy car as he tossed a baseball up and caught it one-handed, over and over. He seemed lost in thought until someone snatched the ball out of the air._

_"So this is where you were hiding."_

_Bucky had jerked when the ball had been taken, but he relaxed as he saw who it was. "Hiding?" he snorted. "From what? Your ugly mug?" he retorted._

_Steve eyed his best friend a moment before he came up to the side of the car, and he was actually eye-level with Bucky given his position. "...You know he was wrong, right?"_

_Bucky stiffened for just a second, and then yawned loudly as he stretched lazily on the car. He seemed relaxed, but Steve knew it was all for show. "Dunno what'chur talkin' about, Stevie."_

_"Yeah, you do. And I know what I'm talking about too. Don't listen to him, okay?"_

_One of their teachers had gotten fed up with Bucky flirting in his class rather than paying attention. He'd called him out in front of everyone, and said to the effect of that Bucky was a 'stupid thug' and that the army would 'weed' out his sort quickly. Bucky had nearly punched the teacher, Steve had stopped him, and then Bucky had ditched school. And eventually, Steve found him atop the car._

_Bucky had a reputation for picking fights and being a skirt-chaser [not that he had to do any chasing, girls chased him plenty]. His grades weren't the best, but Steve knew it wasn't to do with Bucky's intelligence. School bored him, and Bucky worked harder than anyone when it was something he considered worth his time for, but school wasn't it. And it wasn't just Bucky. Who cared about passing classes when you knew you were a stone's throw away from being shipped off to the army? But Bucky had been singled out about an issue that already chafed at him, courtesy of his late father, who had been mean-spirited and abusive drunk._

_"I'm fine." Bucky snapped, before he relaxed his voice and shrugged. "Like I care what that dick said."_

_Steve watched him a moment before he made a fist and lightly 'punched' the other's cheek as he forced Bucky to look at him. "Your lies aren't fooling me, got it? You're not stupid, Buck, nobody thinks that. And if they do, it's cause **they're** stupid." _

_Bucky snorted and pushed Steve's hand away, but Steve caught his hand and gripped it tightly. Bucky frowned and tried to pull away, but Steve wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily and Bucky wasn't going to actually rip his hand away. "Steve-"_

_"-I mean it...the things you do...like when my watch broke, and you figured out how to fix it on your own. And I bet you could take a car apart and put it together again."_

_"That stuff's easy." Bucky grumbled, but he looked a little pleased._

_"Not for everyone, Buck. And you have head for strategy...you're gonna rank up in the army in no time...you're sharp. And you work hard. And you're a good person, Bucky." he added._

_At that, Bucky's mask of indifference failed him, and he finally met Steve's gaze fully. The person he saw reflected in Steve's eyes always seemed so larger-than-life, and no one could convince Steve that Bucky was otherwise, not even Bucky himself. But he wanted to be that. For Steve. "Maybe I just got you fooled and you don't know it." he hedged._

_Steve smiled then. "I said you were sharp, Buck. I didn't say you were sharper than **me**." _

_"Oh, ho. Cocky punk." he suddenly tugged on Steve's hand, and Steve yelped as Bucky wound up pulling Steve onto the car too._

_"Jerk." Steve huffed before he righted himself and sat beside Bucky. "I mean it, Buck."_

_Bucky's lips twisted a moment as he considered that, before he leaned his head on Steve's shoulder a bit. Steve enjoyed it for his part, it was a nice change of pace for Bucky to rely on him. "Thanks, Steve..." he finally murmured._

_Steve smiled as he glanced at Bucky and the pair sat in companionable silence for awhile, content to take life in._

"Bucky?" Steve was hesitant, and when Bucky's eyes swiveled to him, he waited for an outburst. Instead, Bucky's brow just remained furrowed.

"...There was a car..."

"A...car?"

"Boys. One was small, he told him not to listen...that he wasn't stupid."

Steve wracked his brain a moment before it occurred to him. 'One was small'..."That was me, back in the day...before I became Captain America...talking to you, Buck."

"That's not possible." Bucky muttered.

"It is. It's true. You're remembering things, aren't you?" Steve was hopeful.

Bucky looked down at his hands a moment before he looked back up at Steve. "I-"

"What the Hell is going on here?" Tony Stark's voice interrupted the potential revelation. He stood in the doorway with a glare. "You better have a damn good explanation for why the soldier's gone, and why is there a-" he cut off as he actually looked at the kid. He didn't recognize young Bucky, but he noted the chains and over-sized clothes-the ones Bucky had been wearing, and he stared a moment before he asked. "Is that..."

"It's Bucky." Steve confirmed.

"I'm not." Bucky hissed, and all at once his hackles were back up as he regarded the pair.

Steve could have punched Tony for the interruption then. "I came down this morning and he was like this." he explained, he had no response for Bucky's continued denial. Tony just kept on staring at Bucky before he took a few steps closer and asked.

"So wait...the Winter Soldier is in _that_?"

Bucky's eyes had grown cold, the hot anger replaced with the chill of the Winter Soldier. He moved his hands behind his back and got into a crouched position as he watched Tony carefully.

"Hey, kid, staring is rude." But Bucky didn't let up.

"Tony...I need the code for the collar." At that, Winter finally let his gaze slide to Steve, but it went back to Tony quickly.

Tony snorted. "Yeah, right."

"I mean it. Look at him, he's not a threat."

Winter said nothing, but he stiffened slightly as his eyes grew unfocused.

_"Make sure you make it look like an accident. I don't care how."_

_The Winter Soldier had already taken a mission, he'd been out of the cryo-tube for a couple of weeks already, but an impromptu mission had come up. One that only he could do. But this one...this one's name...he **knew**. "I...that's...wrong." The words came out slowly. He didn't need to speak. He was a weapon. Except that he wasn't, this was wrong, this was all wrong. _

_SteveIneedtofindSteveNeedtowarnHowardHavetogetoutWhathaveIdoneHurryCan't-_

_"It's your mission. You need to complete your mission."_

_One of the doctors looked apprehensive. "He's having memory relapses again..."_

_"Don't worry, look at him, he's not a threat."_

_"My...mission." That was right, as long as he completed his mission. Everything would be fine...his mission..._

**_"You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?"_ **

_**"Hell no. The scrawny kid from Brooklyn who was too dumb to run from a fight, I'm following him."** _

_Bucky's eyes widened as memories assailed him. Flashes, bits and pieces, but he knew this was wrong...he wasn't the Winter Soldier. He had to stop this! Bucky swung his arm around and cold-cocked one of the doctors before he hurled a standing table at another. He made a break for the door, only to find himself the victim of a high-powered taser of sorts. "Agh!" he clutched his head in agony, the electricity seemed to burn his brain to it's core, it was painful, too painful._

_"He might not be useful anymore at this rate."_

_"Look at the way he's holding his head...I wonder...if we gave him enough voltage, perhaps we might correct the problem. He's a super-soldier...he would survive."_

_Bucky moaned from the floor, and he tried to sit up, he had to escape, he had to warn Steve, he had to-_

_Arms lifted him as the goon squad arrived and set him up in the electric chair. He realized what was happening and began to thrash about, he **had** to escape... _

_"Do it."_

_Thousands upon thousands of volts of electricity coursed through Bucky's body, as his screams echoed along the uncaring halls and his mind was lost to him again._

There was a click as the color came off, and Winter didn't bother to wonder about the conversation he'd apparently missed as Tony had forked over the code. He had been given a weapon, he'd found it when he'd crouched down, and he would use it. He found his body didn't move right, didn't feel right. But even that handi-cap wasn't enough to override years of training and he found himself behind Captain America with a knife pressed up against his throat enough that to move it would break skin. Captain America stiffened, and Winter spoke in monotone as he addressed Tony. "The captain is my hostage. Make a move against me and I'll slit his throat." he warned. He spoke to Steve then. "Do exactly as I say, or you will die. You-"

"-Sorry, I don't negotiate with psychotic terrorists. You want to slit his throat, go on ahead."

For his part, Steve had made no moves nor responded, but at that he shot Tony an irritated, quizzical look before he spoke calmly to Bucky. "You don't need to this, Buck. We're not going to hurt you."

"I know. I'm going to hurt you." Winter said simply, and he addressed Tony again. "You're bluffing. Captain America is valuable to you." Tony Stark was a man of intelligence, technologically speaking, he wouldn't waste a resource like the captain. Furthermore, they were team mates, and his training had taught Winter that for some reason-that made them place sentimental value on each other's lives.

Tony snorted. "I can make my own super-soldiers. Ones that are a lot less mouthy and annoying. Kill him if you want, but you won't be leaving here alive, buddy."

Winter stared at him, not having expected that. He tried to test the other's resolve as he bit the knife into the captain's throat and let a thin cut well. Steve inhaled a sharp breath and his hands twitched, but he didn't try to throw Winter off. "Bucky-"

"Shut up." Winter said simply, as he met Tony's gaze. But when he'd cut the captain, Tony had seemed...what was the word...amused. "I will kill your friend." The word was unfamiliar on his tongue, but he'd heard it enough from the captain the past few days to be able to use it now. "And then you'll follow."

"Who said we were friends? Quit being such a pansy and do it already. Or does the hobo- _excuse me_ , _Winter_ soldier have cold feet?" Tony taunted.

Winter's hand clenched on the knife as he pushed it a bit deeper in, and a faint bit of blood had trickled onto the silver knife from his previous slight cut. "Buck...please don't do this...I believe in you. I know you're still in there." The captain spoke softly, and Winter couldn't detect a lie in his words. He wondered why the captain hadn't tried to push him off yet, he'd expected it and been ready for it.

_"What a world, huh, Stevie? You got these guys trippin' over themselves to follow you." Bucky chuckled as he took a swig from his glass._

_Steve smiled slightly as he swirled around his own glass of alcohol, though it wouldn't do him any good to drink it. "It's a new feeling, that's for sure...I wonder what they'd think if they'd seen the old me."_

_Bucky laughed. "Then they'd be **begging** to follow you." _

_Steve rolled his eyes as he took a drink. "Yeah, that's what they'd do, alright."_

_Bucky stared down at his drink a moment, and his voice was low and actually serious when he spoke next. "They really would, y'know. You had more guts when you were pint-sized than a lot of these guys got now. You stood up for yourself, and for me, even when you knew you were gonna get your a** kicked."_

_Not everyone had been a fan of Bucky back in the day, and Steve had gotten in more than a couple fights defending Bucky from slander despite Bucky's insistence that he didn't need to._

_"I thought you said I was just too dumb to run from a fight." Steve finally said as he tried to make it humorous, tried not to let that long-running sliver of his insecurity show._

_"Oh, you were definitely that, pal." Bucky clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave a squeeze, but as he fell silent he didn't remove it. Instead, he smiled ruefully at his glass before he looked to Steve with a strange smile. Steve had known how to read Bucky like the back of his hand, but ever since he'd gotten him back from Hydra, there was...something there that was unfamiliar. Was it war-life, or something else? "But if it's a choice between the dummy that won't run, or the chicken that never fights...I'll take the dummy."_

_Steve snorted, wondering where Bucky's train of thought lay. "That's...a really flattering comparison."_

_"Steve, shut up." Bucky said as he tweaked Steve's ear, and Steve fell silent. "I mean it. I'm not followin' you just 'cuz we're old pals or somethin'. Or just 'cuz you saved me. That's part of it but...Hell, I'm as bad as the other morons. I guess, truth is, I just believe in you. I toldja before. Till the end of-_

Winter jerked his hand away as though burned, and the knife clattered to the floor as he backed away from Steve with a twisted up expression. When he looked at any one else, he was _right_. He was the Winter Soldier. He was a weapon. His mission was everything. His mind was filled only with what was necessary. But when the captain spoke, when Steve spoke...suddenly his mind was filled with things he couldn't understand, images and sentiments, and relationships that made no sense to him. What did it even mean, to believe in some one? Belief was an acknowledgment of a truth, was it not? Did that mean to acknowledge that some one existed? What was so sentimental about that? Why did that make some one worth following? It wasn't about worth, you followed the one who made you, who trained you, end of story. So why hadn't he gone back to Hydra? Why had he allowed this man to...to...make him _un_ right. Why couldn't he complete his mission? Why did the thought of killing Steven Rogers make his chest physically ache, had he been poisoned somehow?

Steve rubbed his throat as he turned to look back at Bucky quickly. He noted that the other's face was scrunched and Winter's look was, if he had to name it, confused and apprehensive. Was Bucky peeking through again? He offered the other a light smile. "See, Buck? You don't wanna kill me, pal. You know me. I believe in you."

"Stop saying that!" Winter snapped, as he clutched at his head. "My mission is the only thing that matters! I am the Winter Soldier! I am the ultimate weapon! My work is necessary!" he recited the sentences off as if to validate them. Steve looked at Winter with yet another expression he couldn't understand, like Winter's words caused him physical pain. As if perhaps his chest hurt the same way Winter's did. What did it _mean_?

"You're not a weapon, Bucky. You're a human. A good one. Right now, a broken one. But a human."

"My mission-" Winter's voice sounded odd to his own ears, and not because of how young it was. But it was familiar, it was desperate, he recognized that because of all the desperation of his victims.

"No more missions, Buck." Steve's voice was gentle as he held out his hand to Winter. "You don't have to remember being Bucky if you don't want to, I won't force you. I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. As long as you're safe, as long as you quit hurting yourself and others, that'll make me happy. I just want you to live, pal. I can't lose you again."

"I...I don't understand." Winter stared at Steve's hand like it might bite him, but Steve didn't lower it. "A weapon that isn't useful should be destroyed." he recited words Hydra had drilled into his brain.

There was another emotion then, one that Winter recognized as 'anger' in Steve's expression. The other man was firm this time as he spoke.

"You are not a weapon. And I won't let you destroy yourself. Even if you hate me, that I won't let you do."

Winter stared at Steve and the offered hand, and his own hand suddenly itched to reach out and take it. A voice in the back of his mind, a familiar voice that he'd always ignored, seemed to urge him to. _Just take it..._ Winter's finger's twitched, his hand slowly started to move...until he felt a sharp pain in his neck and he jerked around to find that Tony Stark had just injected something into him. "You-" he snarled, but then his eyes widened as he fell forward, unconscious.

"Fastest acting sedative I've got, you son of a-"

"- _Tony_." Steve's voice was furious as he caught Bucky before he fell, and laid him to the bed as he rose to glare down at the other man. "I was getting through to him! What's wrong with you?"

"What's _wrong_ with _you_? The guy tries to slit your throat and you wanna shake his hand? Did he knock your brain a little too hard?"

"But he _didn't_ , did he!" It wasn't a question. "Bucky couldn't do it. He can't kill me, he knows me. Why are you so against him?"

"Because unlike you, I do my research. Did you only skim his file or something? Do you understand what he is? Do you really? He makes Loki look like a fairy princess. He said it himself, he's a weapon. Even if he gets his memories back, he can't understand them. If you say something like 'love' to him, it won't have any meaning. He literally cannot comprehend emotions, his heart could be broken and he wouldn't get it. Life holds no value to him. At best, he's like a little kid with a gun. He doesn't understand the gravity of his power, he can't comprehend why killing someone matters. At worst, he's a monster."

"It's not his fault-"

"-You keep saying that like it matters. You know what, I agree with you. His life is the poster child for not freaking fair. But when some little kid gets in his line of fire, and you have to tell the parents why that kid's dead. Are you gonna say it's 'not his fault'? You're right, he doesn't do it to be cruel, he's not capable. And that makes it worse. It's not about what he wants, or feels, or even thinks. He'll do terrible things without question, just because he's told to. Maybe he's off Hydra's leash, but if someone else gets hold of him? Or let's say you take the reins, is that what you want? To be his _master_?"

Steve didn't realize he'd yanked Tony up by the collar until he found Stark's face a few inches closer to his own, and he forced himself to calm as he set the other man back down. Tony shrugged it off like it was nothing, and if anything, seemed satisfied he'd proved a point. "Even when I had nothing...I had Bucky. He's a like a brother to me. What would you do? What if it was...Pepper?"

Tony's impassive expression became almost weary for a brief moment, and in an almost resigned way, his tone softened. "From what I know about 'Bucky Barnes', from the way you go on about him, it seems like he was probably a good man. He was probably someone worth saving. But Bucky Barnes died alone in a cold wasteland, it's the Winter Soldier in that body. He's got Bucky's memories, but he'll never have his heart, it's not possible, Steve. And even if he could, you think you'd be doing him a favor? Was Bucky the kind of man who'd be okay with having that much blood on his hands? You think he'd say 'it wasn't his fault'...or would he feel like that monster? You say you're doing this for Bucky, but really, aren't you doing it for yourself?"

Steve took the words like a blow, and coming from Tony, they actually carried more weight than if any one else had said them. Tony, Mr. Devil-May-Care, had actually said something... _like that_. Almost sincere. And he was right. If Steve actually thought about it, then he knew what Bucky would think. Bucky would blame himself for every bit of the blood on his hands, for not being able to stop it, whether that was right or wrong. And maybe it was selfish, maybe he just couldn't let Bucky go...but even so... "I have to try, Tony. I can't give up on him. He'd never give up on me. You gotta let me try...please."

There was a tic in Tony's jaw as he regarded Steve, and then looked to the unconscious boy on the bed. When he finally spoke to Steve again, he had his usual drawling tone. "Well, if you're gonna cry about it, jeez. Have it your way. You're stuck on babysitting duty though."

"I won't let him out of my sight."

"You have fun with that...I do need to test him though...I'd like to know how exactly he went from big pain in the a** to a little one overnight. And where he got that knife." Tony suddenly remembered as his eyes narrowed on Steve.

"Don't look at me! I didn't give it to him!"

"Which begs the question, _who did_?"

.........

The prison transport car held three cuffed passengers that night, one for armed robbery, another for assault and battery, and one for murder.

The armed robber was tall and lanky, with a gristly beard, while the other was short and chubby with a greasy appearance overall. The third seemed not to fit the mold.

His hair was light brown with streaks of stark blonde, and slicked back on his skull. He had a tanned complexion and smooth features, and a tall, muscular body clothed in a designer suit. The man would look more at place at a high-end casino than in the back of a police transport, and his pale blue eyes glinted in the occasional patch of moonlight. The man whistled a jaunty tune, apparently unconcerned by his impending murder charges.

The taller man turned to shoot a glare at him. "Listen, you _f***ing s***head_ , no one wants to hear your _f***ing_ whistling. So shut the _f***_ up before I make you."

The whistling drew to a sharp close as the man swiveled those blue eyes onto him. "No one particularly wants to hear your foul language either." His voice was crisp, and he had a faintly British accent.

"The _f***_ you say, _f***_ face? You got a _f***ing_ problem with the way I _f***ing_ speak?" The man spat, intentionally cursing that time.

"I do believe I advised you to correct your language."

The man guffawed. "I'll talk however the _f***_ I want, you dumb _f***ing s*_ -"

The sound of metal chains being snapped echoed in the small area, as the well-dressed man moved with inhuman speed to grab the man's neck and slam his head against the wall. He shoved his other hand into the man's mouth, where he violently ripped out his tongue. The man let out a strangled scream, and the well-dressed man let him drop as he choked. He tossed the ripped appendage aside and wiped his hand calmly on the man's shirt. "I did warn you."

The shorter man, who had kept quiet, looked at the other man in terror as he tried to back away as far as he could. "Help!" he screamed and he slammed a fist against the wall. "Help! Stop the car!"

The well-dressed man paused. "I suppose we'll have to stop now...this idiot just couldn't keep his mouth shut..."

"P-Please don't kill me, sir." The short man said meekly.

"Sir...that has a decent ring to it. But when addressing a god, it's a little underwhelming. My name is Apollo, named for the virile Greek deity of the sun." he said, with a flourish of his hand.

When the man just stared at him with an open-mouth, and a terrified expression, Apollo sighed.

"Really, no one appreciates art any more. Such a pity. But oh well, when I make the new world order, I'll change all that." "Help! Stop the car!" The man screamed and slammed the wall again, and the transport finally halted. Apollo sighed yet again and shook his head. "I suppose the ride's over. Pity. Well, that's as far as we go then." He took a few steps closer to the man, who began to plead.

"Don't kill me. I won't tell any one what I saw. Just let me live. Don't kill me."

"Let you live? Is that what you think you've been doing? Oh, no, you poor man. You're just scum, a parasitic infestation...a blight on this planet. Don't you see? You don't belong...I'm just setting the order of things straight..." And so saying, he deftly moved forward and snapped the man's neck just as the doors opened.

The two officers saw the bloody scene, and watched the man, and quickly determined that this man was too dangerous to be given quarter again. They both whipped out their guns and fired, stunned when the bullets ricocheted off of the man and one bullet went back into the officer who'd fired it.

Apollo frowned as he glanced down at himself and tugged on his jacket regretfully. "This was a new suit. How very callous of you."

"W-What the Hell are you?" The unshot officer stammered.

" _What_? How rude. I am a god. But save your prayers, they won't do you any good with me, I'm afraid." Apollo brushed himself off as he stepped out of the car, and the officer aimed for his head. Apollo tutted as he moved forward and grabbed the officer's hand as he slammed the man's elbow upward to snap his arm. He then slammed his head against the van fatally, before he used the dropped gun to finish what the ricocheted bullet had started on the other officer. "I do dislike guns, but I haven't got the time to waste on your ilk, you see? Summer must progress, after all."

There was a scream across the street, as a young couple spotted Apollo and the brutal scene he'd left. The pair started to run and Apollo smiled slowly, and there was nothing pleasant about it. "Then again, it's been so long since I've had a good hunt..."

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

**Finally finished. Ooh, well-dressed psycho-villain! Bwah, Bucky is toying with me. I tried to get inside his head a bit. Bucky before the war, Bucky after Hydra the first time, Bucky dealing with the new Captain Steve, the Winter Soldier, Bucky coming out of the Winter Soldier, and what Bucky might be like emerged from the Winter Soldier. I re-watched his First Avenger scenes, and he's actually a little callous towards Steve, careless maybe, despite his devotion. And when he gets the men to cheer for Captain America, he smiles at Steve but then gets sort of a bitter look on his face. The general consensus is jealousy, but for different reasons. Is he jealous of Capt's popularity and attention? Or is jealous of having to share Steve? Is he bitter that he's not the leader now...or bitter than he isn't Steve's protector now? Bucky actually makes a good character study. XD I think it'll be fun to dip into that when Bucky starts emerging. Next chapter will start with Winter Soldier's POV, since it's been pretty Steve-centric so far. His reactions after waking up small and such. Thanks for the reviews, alerts, and faves! Verbal hugs, whee! Enjoy!~Witchy~**


	6. Remembering to Forget

**Aghh. I was trying not to give any spoilers on this fellow yet. Apollo isn't Marvel, nor is he the actual God. Basically, he's such an egomaniac that he makes _Tony_ look humble. He only thinks he's a god, and there's a very legitimate, non-godly reason that bullets bounce off of him. XD As for the woman, she's another can of worms tied to something I've got planned later. I'm glad everyone's cool with Tony, cause I was worried about making him the voice of reason in that chap, but someone had to be. XD And don't worry, the Winter Soldier will be back in his true body eventually, and do some things that I'm sure you will all love. And hate. And angst over. I hope. I'm excited. XD Thank you for the reviews, I cannot put into words how happy they make me. I was grinning at work. XD Enjoy!**

**~ ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

The two months following Hydra and Shield's respective dissolutions had been a flurry of pain, twisted memories, and violence for the Winter Soldier. Hydra operatives seemed keen on catching up with him, despite the fact that the Winter Soldier tore their units apart every time. And in the 'quiet' moments, the Winter Soldier secluded himself in whatever area he'd wandered into as he put himself at the mercy of the shattered glass that was his mind. Memories assailed him, choppy things, some which he acknowledged as his own and ones that may as well have been from a stranger. Strange pains crushed his chest, and he found that he needed to make himself occasionally eat and sleep or he would end up weakened, even as a super-soldier. And through it all, other than his dreams of torture and death, only thing haunted his vision, the face of his mission: Captain America. The one mission he hadn't completed.

Winter had been living in the forest for several weeks when Hydra caught up to him, and he'd seen the unexpected face of his enemy. The next thing he knew, he was locked up while his mission rambled off nonsense. Nothing the man said made sense, it only increased the pain in his head, the strange, broken fragments of memories he couldn't believe were his own. Things were simpler when his thoughts revolved around his missions, before Steven Rogers had entered his life. There were also Anthony Stark, who Winter found intolerable, and Bruce Banner for whom he had no opinion towards. It wasn't for a weapon to have an opinion. His dislike of Stark stemmed purely from the other's attempt to control him [and his attitude, although Winter couldn't see it as such].

And yet, Winter couldn't deny that something was off and he had gone to that museum. There he'd been faced with a man who was his twin. But the man described was nothing like him. It spoke of loyalty and devotion, of self-sacrifice and a great heart, of humor and a childhood bond with Captain America. The only thing that remotely made sense was loyalty, but the way it was described seemed unnecessarily sentimental. You gave your 'loyalty' to the one who gave you your missions, to the one who created you. It was just that simple.

Winter had nearly escaped the unsettling madness of Stark Tower, only to be recaptured and find himself in a state worse than he might have imagined. His body had been regressed, he'd lost his metal limb and ability, his super-soldier status was lost to him. Winter could think of no culprit besides those that had trapped him, but when he'd listened to Captain America's assurances that he hadn't done it, Winter was inclined to believe him. He had been trained to discern truth from lies for when he was used as a torture interrogater, which was rarer than his true missions but happened from time to time. But that did not explain how he had ended up in the smaller form, or the strange clarity to his head. Even before Captain America had caused him to... _question_...his head had never felt quite so clear. His other organs, however, were less fortunate. His heart seemed to constantly hurt and ache, particularly in Captain America's proximity.

And he spoke such nonsense about the value of lives, trying to convince Winter that he wasn't a weapon, speaking of friendship and not hurting himself as though it somehow influenced the captain. He made expressions that Winter couldn't decipher, and spoke so... _gently_. He was used to cold orders or the pathetic tones of his targets.

And yet, when the captain held out his hand with apparent concern for Winter [which made no sense at all], he found that his hand seemed to reach towards it heedless of his own will. There was that voice in his head, the one that urged him to do so. But before anything could come of it, Anthony Stark had drugged him. And that, he reasoned, was how he'd ended up in yet another room without his knowledge.

....

_Bucky stood at the edge and looked down into the gaping abyss below. One step, and he could end everything..._

Winter awoke to find himself tucked into yet another bed, although this time it seemed to be in an actual bedroom and not a cell of any kind. The bed made him uncomfortable, it was too soft and too unlike his familiar, tight-fitted sleep cylinder. And, as he'd now come to expect, there was Captain America with another strange expression.

"Are you alright, Buck? You were having another nightmare."

Winter had no idea what he was talking about, and he drew himself up quickly to pull away from the captain as he tried to get his bearings. The room was opulent but simple in layout, one door and one window. The captain was between Winter and the door, and he suspected that the floor was too high to jump from-especially given his condition. The air ventilation system would be too small, even in his current body.

"Bucky...Buck?"

Winter's eyes swiveled back to the captain as he realized the other had been addressing him the whole time. "That's not my name." he said with finality, and though he couldn't name it as such, a flicker of annoyance coursed through him as he found himself having to explain that simple fact again. And there went another strange expression...

"Then what am I supposed to call you?" The man's tone was exasperated, and Winter was familiar with that tone because his targets tended to be exasperated until he finished them.

"Nothing, because I shouldn't be here. If you don't plan on killing me, then release me."

That strange expression again, and then. "B-...Look...no one is going to kill you, that's not an option. But until you're...until you're better, you can't just run wild. It's dangerous, for you and for others."

Winter's eyes narrowed. "Dangerous for me _how_?"

The captain presented him with a surprised expression, and Winter couldn't see what might have been the cause, but then the captain sighed and spoke bluntly. "You were hurting yourself. Bru-...Dr. Banner said it looked like you'd been slamming your head and hands into...walls?" It was almost a question, and Winter supposed that was to allow for the fact he may have been slamming it into another surface. "You were malnourished and dehydrated, and sleep deprived to boot. You don't...you aren't taking care of yourself."

_"I'm fine, Buck. It's just a cold." Steve sniffed as his nose ran, and he tried to hide a cough by clearing his throat._

_Bucky scowled as he threw another blanket over his friend. "The Hell you are. I'll make some soup, keep your butt in that bed." he warned._

_"Bucky-" Steve started to protest weakly, but Bucky had already gone. Steve hadn't shown up for school and Bucky had shown up concerned._

"I eliminated all threats that came after me." Winter informed him. He had taken care of himself perfectly well. Winter had eaten, drunk, and slept in the quantities he determined necessary. If the captain considered that not taking care of himself, he had to be judging by standards for civilians. Flickers of images and voices went through his mind, and Winter tried to ignore them.

_"Here, have some'a this." Bucky said as he sat on the edge of Steve's bed with the freshly warmed up soup._

_"Buck, you'll get sick! I'm fine, reall-" Steve broke off into a fit of coughs, and Bucky rubbed his back soothingly until it passed. "Buck..."_

_Bucky smiled as he sat cross-legged, his knee on Steve's as he held out a spoonful. He knew Steve hated feeling weak, hated feeling like a burden, but Bucky hated to see his best pal in pain. And Bucky could be persuasive. Or stubborn, as Steve called it. "Just sit back and relax, and say 'ahh'."_

_"I can feed myself, Buck!" Steve protested with a faint flush._

_"I know ya can, pal. But I want to. Makes me feel important."_

_Steve snorted. "Important?"_

_"Yeah. I get to give my best pal a hand. That's important to me." Bucky looked down at the bowl for a moment before he offered Steve a cheeky, sheepish grin. "You don't wanna break my heart, do ya, buddy?"_

_Steve had been stunned into silence a moment at the playful Bucky's bit of sincerity, but at the finish, his lips twisted into a wry smile. He knew Bucky was just trying not to make him feel bad, Bucky Barnes' heart was far from danger, but still... Steve sighed, happy despite himself and unable to deny Bucky, "Ahh-" he said obediently._

_"There's a good punk." Bucky said with a grin as he fed Steve a spoonful of soup._

_Steve snorted and almost choked soup out of his nose. "J-Jerk."_

The captain stared at him before he shook his head. "That's not what I mean...you...you'd lost weight. Your vitals were all wrong...and...here's the thing, Dr. Banner took a brain scan. You were messed up bad, Bu-..." The captain hesitated, and clearly omitted some information as he continued. Winter took note of that with a frown. "According to Dr. Banner...whenever your mind tried to...heal and remember things, it would cause you pain and make you...uh...unstable. Your brain was...damaged."

Winter heard the words 'vitals' and 'brain scan', and his frowning expression zeroed out instantly. His eyes were on Steve, but the look in them was filled with sudden malice.

"You tested me." His tone was almost accusatory. "Then you got what you needed to do _this_ to me."

_"Partial memory regeneration seen in subject after two week duration from cryo-state.. Higher voltage required to mitigate."_

_"No...no...no! Let me go! Let me go! I have to...I...let me-agh!" An electrical charge went through the Winter Soldier._

_"Scan again, test for decreased mental function."_

The captain's eyes widened. "No! We didn't, we wouldn't have a way even if we wanted to-and we _don't_! But Tony tested you again, whatever...-this-" he gestured to Winter- "-is...your brain is healed. Dr. Banner said it's just a matter of getting your memories back and processing them...it shouldn't hurt any more."

_"Neural activity renewing, increase voltage and proceed."_

...........

"What do you mean, healed? I thought it couldn't be done." Steve peered at the brain image on the screen, but the image remained as meaningless to him as ever.

"Yeah, and neither can reverse-aging, but try telling that to the mini-hobo soldier." Tony pointed out as he examined the data.

"So...so...he's fixed?"

"Not exactly." Bruce supplied. "This is a healthy, functioning brain. But as you noticed, he was still...not himself. The issue of amnesia is still present, whatever did this didn't fix his memories...but with his mind like this, regaining his memories will be much easier. It shouldn't hurt him any more, and while he might have a hard time distinguishing reality from the flashbacks for a time...it's considerably better than the alternative."

Steve let that sink in, but there was still a troubling matter. "But you have no idea how he got small? No chemicals, no...nothing?"

"Nothing chemical, plant-based, animal-based, or otherwise...now if it has anything to do with psychotic Asgardian Gods, I have no idea. We can't measure that, unfortunately."

"You think it was Loki?" Steve's eyes widened in alarm.

Tony waved a dismissive hand. "No, from what I understand, he's on Odin's s***list and locked up nice and tight. Which is merciful, considering I would have like to use his head as a pinball but anyway....the point is, if it's anything like Loki or crazy alien power...we've got no data."

"But why target Bucky..?" "Your guess is as good as mine. If your guesses were backed by a genius-level IQ and years of experience in not being a cap-sicle." Tony said generously. "His blood tests came back normal. No super-soldier anything. Brain scan looks good. He's really a kid again, physically. Which is good and bad. Better for the whole remembering thing. Probably not gonna held with the coping. And if he gets all his memories back like that...yeesh."

Steve allowed himself to consider what it might be like if Bucky's memory was suddenly restored. He'd be waking up in the future with seventy years worth of torturous memories to deal with inside of a child's body-one that he would have to grow up again in if they couldn't undo whatever this was. It made him sick just to think about. "There's gotta be something."

"Yeah, well, something is nothing right now, so my advice would be to get the little brat remembering as much as you can...because if he does suddenly shoot up again, there's no guarantee his brain will still be in one piece."

...

Bucky awoke following another nightmare, and Steve wasn't sure what to expect. All things considered, he was actually fairly calm but what really got him was the way he was talking. His words held flickers of emotions, they were solid-intelligent responses, they held a healthy dose of pronouns...it wasn't Bucky, but it was better than the snarling mass of rage and self-mutilation he'd dealt with before. But then the other seemed to go back to thinking he was responsible, and he could tell his attempts to explain things had gone wrong when Bucky's body tensed.

"Aggghhh!" Bucky let out a wailing scream and clutched his head as he dug his fingers into his scalp. "Stopitstopitstopitstopit." he chanted in rapid succession.

Steve had no idea what the best reaction would be, he didn't want Bucky to hurt himself, and he was damned tired of the poor guy getting knocked out. On an impulse, he put on his captain's voice and barked sharply, " _At attention, soldier_."

At once, Bucky jerked to his feet with his hands on his head, and they lowered slowly as his gaze lifted to Steve. Bucky breathed heavily, and his eyes were wide as he regarded Steve.

Whether as Sergeant Barnes or as the Winter Soldier, the militant training should have been something he never forgot. Orders were orders, and as he'd hoped [and feared], the sharp command had gotten through to him where soothing words had previously failed. But where it had gotten them too, he wasn't sure. Still, Bucky seemed to be alert now, unlike in previous instances of his fits..."You were holding your head and screaming, pal...you wanna tell me about it?" Bucky stiffened, and the question seemed to agitate him, so Steve hurried on quickly. "Forget it, doesn't matter. Whatever I said to...upset you, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. And I swear to you, Bu-...I swear we had nothing to do with you being...little again."

Winter had seen the lights, felt the electrodes on his brain, felt the pain course through him and he'd been lost in that cold, metallic Hell yet again. And then he'd heard an order, he'd reacted and when he opened his eyes, he wasn't there, it was that man who stood before him again. He made vows about his innocence in the matter of Winter's plight. Vows meant nothing to him, the words were idle, but the open expression and tone were analyzed and read as being honest. If Anthony Stark or Bruce Banner had been responsible for his present state, it was unbeknownst to Steven Rogers. Even so, that meant nothing either. "You let them test me." he repeated.

Steve's mouth fell open slightly before it closed as he realized what the problem might have been. He'd mentioned testing and brain scans carelessly, in a panic, but perhaps it had brought up bad memories. And certainly knowing you'd been tested on while unconscious and defenseless wouldn't ease your mistrust of someone. "To help you. We were hoping we could figure out what happened, but we couldn't...they said it wasn't anything chemical or traceable. That's it. Just to help you. I told you: I won't let you get hurt."

"Whether a weapon is injured is irrelevant if they can still perform their missions." Winter snapped, irritated by the captain's need to keep bringing up his pain tolerance. He was the Winter Soldier, pain was nothing, and the insinuation that he would need assistance from Captain America was laughable.

The argument was a circular one, Steve had no idea how to break the cycle. He could only say what he'd already said. "You are _not_ a weapon. You're a human being. And you're a good one, the best I ever knew. I don't care if you can perform missions, I just can't stand to see you get hurt. It...it _hurts_ _me_ , Buck." Steve finished, unable to stop the emotional admission.

_"I had it taken care of!" Steve snapped as he wiped blood from his lip and pulled away as Bucky tried to help him up._

_Bucky had found Steve getting the snot beat out of him by a couple of prats, and he'd made short work of them. "Your new black eye says otherwise, pal." he teased, adopting humor._

_Steve glared up at him, not amused. "I don't need you to fight my battles for me!"_

_Bucky held up his hands as if in surrender. "I know ya don't, but you can't expect me to just let you get beat up-" he trailed off as he realized that was poor phrasing. Sure enough, Steve winced and drew back._

_"It's not like I get beat up on purpose." Steve finally muttered, and he tried to push past Bucky._

_Bucky held out an arm to stop him, and he slung it around Steve's shoulders as he pulled the other boy into a half-hug, though he kept him at arm's length. "I know that, Steve. You're the toughest punk I know. But look at it from my angle, if ya saw me being beat up, wouldn'tcha wanna help me?" Steve snorted at the idea that someone would beat Bucky up. "Wouldn'tcha?" he insisted._

_Steve frowned but after a moment's consideration, he sighed and then nodded. "Yeah, I would...of course I would."_

_"Well, then, see? Ya can't get mad when I do it, pal. Seeing you get hurt hurts me, got it?" Steve's frown didn't fade, and Bucky caught him by the waist as he poked his fingers into Steve's side and the ever-ticklish Steve yelped. "Got it? Got it?" he teased as he poked the other some more._

_"Okay, okay! I got it-gah-stop-Bucky!" Steve laughed, and then socked Bucky in the shoulder before Bucky scooped his arm around his neck as he turned them around._

"Bucky? Hey, snap out of it!"

Winter blinked, and he realized he'd blanked out of whatever the other had been saying. The flashback this time had been vivid and encompassed his consciousness. He'd seen and heard it clearly, and it was a strange echo of his present situation, was it not? "Why?"

"..Why, what?" "Why would you want to help me if I was being beaten?"

Steve stared at him and connected the dots between Bucky's unfocused moment to the question. He couldn't say which of the many times Bucky had come to his rescue had just been recalled, but he guessed that it was along those lines. What answer could he possibly give that the Winter Soldier would remotely understand? According to Tony, what he'd observed, and the Winter Soldiers' file...emotions, bonds, nuances of relationships, simple kindness...these things were foreign to him. How would you explain rain to someone that lived in a desert their whole life? "Because you're important to me. You matter. You're...irreplaceable." The first two reasons didn't get a reaction, but the last made Bucky frown.

"No one is irreplaceable. A new weapon can always-"

" _You're not a damned weapon, Bucky_!" Steve snapped, and Bucky, in his own limited means of expression, seemed surprised and then returned to his cold demeanor.

"I'm not Bucky." Winter corrected.

"Then who are you?" Steve asked lowly.

_"What are you?"_

_"Not...a what...I-I'm...James-"_

_"Again." A shock went through Bucky's body again, they'd been at it for nearly fifteen minutes. "What are you?"_

_"S-Stop-" Bucky gasped against the pain._

_"Again." Another shock treatment, longer this time, until Bucky's eyes rolled back into his head a moment. "What are you?"_

_Bucky stared listlessly at the ceiling, thoughts drifted in and out of his head. "What...?" he echoed._

_"You are the Winter Soldier. You are a weapon. You serve Hydra. Repeat this."_

_"...Nn-"_

_"Again." Another shock treatment, and Bucky screamed as the volts wracked his body. "You are the Winter Soldier. You are a weapon. You serve Hydra. Repeat this."_

_A long, silent moment, and then Bucky mumbled. "I am the Winter Soldier...I'm a weapon...I-...I-"_

_"Again."_

Dimly, Winter recalled that experience. How long had it taken before he'd spoken correctly? "I am the Winter Soldier...I am a weapon...I serve Hydra." Winter repeated.

Steve watched as he lost Bucky's attention again, and when he regained it, Bucky seemed to be speaking from a programmed dialogue. Disappointment and rage filled him. They had done this to Bucky, they had twisted him, stolen his will away and dehumanized him. The file mentioned his bouts of defiance, ones that they 'corrected' with more torture and longer cryo-freezes. Bucky had tried to fight, and he'd been shoved down time and again. And all of this he'd suffered because Steve had failed to save him. He blamed himself.  "And that's what you want?" he whispered.

Bucky stared at him as though just seeing him, and then his brow furrowed slightly at the question. "A weapon doesn't _want_. A weapon obeys." Winter didn't understand the question beyond it's basic definition, so he repeated words that had been drilled into him as a response.

"Then why didn't you go back?"

Winter searched his mind for an appropriate response, but there was none. He should have gone back, he should have completed his mission, but instead he'd gone to that museum and then taken off. When Hydra came for him, he'd killed them all. Winter had defected and so... "I'm defective." he finally said. That was the only reasonable conclusion.

The expression that filled the captain's face next was one he absolutely didn't understand.  If he had, he would have called it 'heart break'. Water welled in the captain's eyes, those he recognized as tears, and he couldn't fathom the cause. None of the captain's responses made sense.

"No. You're not." Steve whispered, the words forced past a lump in his throat. It was one thing [one horrible damned thing] to know that Bucky had been tortured and made into a weapon. But to hear him speak that way about himself, to see what they'd reduced his best friend to was physically painful. His heart felt about to break in two. "You went to that museum...you saw James Barnes, you saw _us_...didn't it mean anything to you?"

Winter, despite himself, thought back to that day. The man in the memorial with his face. The man who seemed so very different from Winter, different as night and day. The man who smiled so easily and stood beside Captain America. Images and voices had flickered through his head, too quickly to catch or make sense of, and that pain in his chest that had been growing since the moment he'd seen the captain on the bridge reached a fever-pitch. "You made me sick." he finally replied, and the captain looked confused. "Since I saw you on the bridge, I've had pain in my chest." he said, as he clasped a hand over his heart region. "Proximity to you increases it. My head's been unclear, I keep...seeing things...hearing voices...you made me defective." Winter accused. "And at the museum...it was worse."

Steve's eyes widened at the admission, and something like relief flooded him. All this time, he thought he hadn't been getting through but... _Bucky's heart ached_. He just didn't understand it. "That's your heart, Buck. Your heart is hurting. It's a feeling. Emotions. Your heart remembers even if your head doesn't."

"A heart doesn't _have_ memories." Winter hissed.

"Yes, it does. It remembers feelings...you _remember_ me... _us_...they couldn't take that away from you. No matter how many times they-" Steve cut off and started over. "That pain in your heart doesn't mean you're defective, it means what I've been saying, you're _human_. You're my friend. And you _know me_. You know I'm your friend too. That's why you can't complete your mission. Because deep down, you are Bucky Barnes, and he would never hurt me. We're family."

_"B-Buck?" Steve had come home to find Bucky in his hallway. It was Christmas Eve, and only a few months after his mother's death. "What the Hell? You scared me half to death."_

_Bucky grinned crookedly. "Don't conk out on me yet, not till ya see what I brought'cha." He eagerly pushed Steve's back and made the other head into the living room, where a small but sturdy tree decked out in a strand of lights, some candy canes, and couple of ornaments sat with a few messily wrapped Christmas presents._

_Steve's eyes widened. "Where'd you get all this, Buck? You-" "-I didn't steal it, promise. Took an extra part-time job, nothing fancy." "Bucky-"_

_Bucky loped an arm around Steve's neck as he pointed to the table. "Got us some nog and whiskey, we're gonna have us a time, pal. Even got a couple of holiday plates from Ed's Diner. We'll eat like kings tonight!"_

_"Bucky, you didn't have to do this...it's a lot of trouble-"_

_Bucky snorted as he ruffled Steve's hair. "It's nothin', Stevie. We're family, ain't we? H-Hey, don't start that!" Steve's eyes had filled with tears, and the smaller boy turned away as he tried to wipe them. Bucky's gaze softened, and he smiled fondly before he spun Steve around and pulled him into a tight hug. "Merry Christmas Eve, pal."_

_Steve sniffed, and mumbled into Bucky's chest. "Merry Christmas Eve, Buck."_

A strange pain of a different kind welled in Winter's chest. If he'd known what to call it, it would be something like warmth and fondness, but to him it was just a variance of pain. "...I...Bucky...he said the same thing... _Christmas Eve_...there was...a book...a brown book." he said, almost uncertainly.

Steve's eyes lit up, that was a memory he could connect to with certainty. "A sketch book...you got it for me. A real nice one...that was...after my mother died. I thought I'd be alone for Christmas, but you stayed with me. I can't even describe what it meant to me. You were always like that though...you took care of me." Steve watched Bucky carefully, astonished and hopeful when Bucky's brow furrowed as if trying to remember, and he didn't object.

"You were...smaller. And...sick...a lot. And the book...you liked...to draw..." The words were all questions, as he seemed to pull them out of himself and he watched Steve as if for confirmation.

"That's right." Steve said, and he didn't dare move or say the wrong thing, not when Bucky seemed to be properly remembering. "Everybody else said drawing was 'for girls'...but you always encouraged me. You even asked me to draw you a few times."

"...Where is the book?" Steve hesitated before he admitted. "It's gone...that was years ago, Buck. It probably doesn't exist anymore." Bucky's expression twisted just slightly, and Steve might have called it disappointment if the Winter Soldier were capable of that. "I haven't really drawn in awhile, but I could give it a go...how about it? Want me to draw you?"

The idea seemed, just for a second, to intrigue Bucky. But then he slowly frown and seemed to withdraw again. "No...there's no point."

"Not everything has to have a point. It's okay to do things just...for fun."  Bucky didn't seem to like that answer, and Steve wondered at the way Bucky could-without expression-convey so much disdain.

"Actions that don't assist the mission are unnecessary."  Winter said firmly.

Steve felt he could differentiate now between when Bucky was actually speaking, and when he was reciting what had been drilled into him. The Brooklyn accent and slang were gone, but Bucky still spoke with personal inflection. When he'd originally called him Bucky, his response had been 'who the Hell is Bucky'. Rather than ignore the 'unnecessary' input from his 'mission', he had chosen to respond. And he'd used 'who the Hell'. That wasn't clinical, that was a personal response. Whenever Winter spoke with monotone confidence, when he dropped the pronouns and spoke of being a weapon, it seemed that he was reciting drilled lines and speaking formally.

As it was, Steve felt they'd made some small measure of progress, and he didn't want to push too hard. But perhaps while Bucky was lucid...he could try another tactic. "Well, I'm hungry." he announced. "And you need a shower...so how about you get a shower in, and we go out for breakfast? Lunch. Whatever." he adopted a light tone.

Winter frowned at the suggestion. "You want to take me outside? I could escape."

"...You could try...but I'd catch you. And besides, where would you go? If you try and starve yourself like you did before, you won't last this time...you're not a super soldier right now." He hated to bring that up again, but tip-toeing around the issue didn't seem like it would be helpful either. He watched as Bucky stiffened and feared he'd erred anyway, but after a moment, Bucky spoke slowly.

"You're...trying to...take care of me?"  Again the words all seemed like questions as he tried to analyze the captain.

"That's part of it." Steve admitted. "And I just wanna spend some time with you. And I'm getting real sick of being cooped up in this crazy building." he offered Bucky a tentative smile.  He watched as Bucky glanced around as if to consider whether he too was tired of Stark Tower. Eventually his gaze settled on Steve.

"I'm not Bucky."

Steve felt his heart clench, and he bit his tongue as he searched for an answer. "You remember being him."

"I have...some memories." Winter admitted. "They don't mean anything."

"Not according to what you told me." Steve tapped his heart to remind Bucky of his confession. Bucky blinked and seemed momentarily annoyed, before he looked down at his chest and then seemed to reach a decision.

"Even if that's true...I'm still not _him_. I'm the Winter Soldier."

"You don't have to be." Steve said softly.

_"You are the Winter Soldier. You serve Hydra. Beyond that, you are nothing. You are a tool. You are a weapon. Nothing more. Do you understand?"_

"If I'm not the Winter Soldier, I'm nothing!" Winter snapped. Captain America didn't understand. If he didn't complete his missions, if he wasn't useful, then he was defective and he held no value or purpose. He would be nothing.

Steve flinched at the words but shook his head. "If you're not the Winter Soldier...if you're not Bucky...you're still someone. You can figure that out. But whoever you are...I don't wanna lose you."

"You don't want to lose Bucky, but he's already _gone_." Winter hissed.

Steve rose from the bed then, and Winter took a few steps back. Steve approached slowly and with his palms splayed out in a gesture of peace as he knelt down in front of Bucky. The other's posture was tense and defensive, and Steve slowly moved a hand to Bucky's shoulder. Bucky stiffened, but to Steve's surprise and relief, he didn't move away. "I won't lie to you, I want my Bucky back. More than anything. But if I can't have him, I can live with that. But you were Bucky. And that's enough for me to never give up on you. Whoever you choose to be, however it turns out, I'm with you till the end of the line."

And something clicked in the back of Winter's mind. He felt as if stood before the precipice of a divide, and if just crossed that...then...then what? Who would he be? If he wasn't the Winter Soldier, if he was or wasn't 'Bucky'...what was he? What would he have to hold on to? Those words drew up a memory, just out of his reach, and if he could remember...if he could just-

Winter drew back suddenly, and stared at Steve with visible apprehension.

"Bucky?" While he was glad to see a flicker of expression on Bucky's face-he didn't like that it looked so close to fear. Were his words that unsettling? He couldn't get a read on Bucky, on what he was thinking or potentially feeling. And so Steve let the matter drop before it grew out of hand again. "How about that shower and food?" he finished gently.

Bucky didn't say much after that, but he allowed Steve to lead him to the shower. Steve noted that he took stock of _everything_ , and Steve had a suspicion he was planning escape routes. But for now, he felt that Bucky wasn't a flight risk. Or going to try to kill him. For the moment. "Okay, so there's stuff in the shower, a towel in that cupboard, and if you need anything I'll be just down the hall, okay?" But he noted that Bucky seemed reticent, and he frowned. The other had to know how to shower, didn't he? "Uh...you...you did take showers, didn't you?"

Bucky's jaw clenched as his gaze shot up to Steve. "I was cleaned after my missions."

"..Cleaned?" Steve echoed.

"My prosthetic arm was covered. High-pressured water hose was used for cleaning." Bucky said, as though it should have been obvious.

Steve felt a wave of nausea run through him. The water pressure from one of those was nothing nice. It had probably been freezing. And he doubted they did it with his clothes on. He could imagine Bucky, scarred from missions and their torture, being made to strip and line up for a 'cleaning'. The urge to vomit warred with the desire to physically beat every member of Hydra he could find. "We don't..." his own jaw clenched and he forced himself to speak calmly. "Look." He headed over to the shower and showed Bucky how to turn it on. "Turn it this way for warmer water, this way for colder water...whatever feels comfortable."

Bucky's expression was as dubious as the Winter Soldier's expression could be, and Steve bit his tongue as he adjusted it himself to a comfortably warm temperature. Telling Bucky to act based on feelings would carry as much weight right now as telling a fish to swim on dry land. "Shampoo and conditioner. You use these to rinse your hair...it's hair soap. And there's regular soap. For your body." he clarified. Bucky continued to stare, and Steve had a feeling that if he left, Bucky was at best going to stand in the shower and get out. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't going to hurt much if he didn't have Bucky use the products. But he hoped that the act of doing something normal would help Bucky's recovery. He had to be reminded that he was human, shown that he wasn't a weapon.

Steve hesitated and then offered. "Is it okay if I help you this time? Show you how?"

"It's not necessary." Winter finally replied. "Water is sufficient."

More drilled responses. "Trust me...you're gonna want it after awhile. Greasy, itchy hair and-"

"There is no _trust_." Winter snapped suddenly. "I don't trust you. It isn't necessary in a-"

"I swear if you say 'weapon' one more time, I'm going to-" Steve had started automatically to say something about smacking him-not truly, it was an expression of exasperation, but he cut off as Bucky tensed and seemed on the defensive. "I'm going to cry." he finished. And that seemed to confuse Bucky who frowned at him but relaxed his posture a bit.

"You make no sense." Winter finally said.

Steve smiled ruefully. "I've been accused of worse...will you let me help you? ...Please?"

Winter hesitated, but after a moment's consideration, he suddenly took his clothes off and stepped into the shower. Steve was a little taken aback by the sudden response but he took it as a 'yes'. Bucky stood stock still with the water running over him, his posture rigid, and Steve said gently. "You can relax...most people enjoy showers."

"I'm not most people." For some reason, the response was oddly reminiscent of _his_ Bucky, as was the almost surly way he said it.

Steve didn't have a decent response to that, so he settled for starting with the shampoo. He kept his movements slow. "You'll wanna close your eyes, it'll sting if it gets in them." Bucky stiffened, and Steve figured closing his eyes around the 'mission' was a big no-no for him. "If I was going to hurt you, don't you think I would have done it already? I just want to help you. That's all." After yet another long moment [Steve was starting to suspect the pauses were internal debates], Bucky's eyes slowly closed and he gently began working a lather into Bucky's hair.

He remembered Bucky at this age, from so many years ago, and at that time they were still about the same size. Even so, Bucky had still seemed larger than life, vivacious and snarky, adventurous and fearless, and _reckless_ even then. Now, despite the vicious persona currently contained in him, he seemed small and fragile, entirely too helpless and at the mercy of a world that kept trying to break him. Steve had the sudden urge to pull him close and hold him the way Bucky always did for him, back when he'd fit tucked against Bucky. He'd usually gripe at Bucky about it, but he never felt safer than in those moments, it was like him and Bucky against the world and he knew Bucky wouldn't let anything touch him. Steve had hoped that when he'd gotten the serum, he'd be able to give Bucky that same comfort.

But he'd failed.

Steve gently rinsed Bucky's hair and started with the conditioner. "You leave the conditioner in a couple minutes...so you can open your eyes."

Bucky's eyes came open slowly, and Steve was startled at how... _calm_ he looked, almost vulnerable.

"You could pretend sometimes."

"What?"

"After a mission...you could come back, stand in the shower, and for a few minutes...you just wash it all away."

It took Steve a minute, but he realized that Bucky wasn't talking as the Winter Soldier, but as Sergeant Barnes.

"The only damn privacy you could get." Bucky suddenly added in a slightly sullen mutter. Steve's eyes widened. And to a degree, he didn't think Bucky even realized what he was saying. But he'd play along. "Unless your best friend thinks it's funny to prank you in the showers."

Bucky paused and his expression suddenly seemed almost animated. "Like turning the water heater off?"

"Yeah, that'd be one thing." Steve agreed, he'd had more than a few chilly showers thanks to a mischievous Bucky Barnes. Not that he hadn't paid him back in kind. And then that time Bucky had put a snake into the shower...he'd gotten caught on that one, and Steve hadn't been as 'sorry' as he'd pretended when he was forced to make Bucky run a couple of laps around camp as penance.

_Bucky, slightly out of breath, came to stand beside Steve with a scowl. "Laps are finished, **Captain**." _

_Steve's lips twitched as he fought a smirk. "I hope you've learned your lesson, Sergeant."_

_"Oh, I have. Next time, I'll just put it in your bed, Captain." Bucky replied sweetly._

_"Sorry, Buck, I don't swing that way." Steve teased back, and Bucky scowled further, before both of them dissolved into laughter._

Bucky didn't seem inclined to say more, and Steve handed him the bar of soap. "Just rub it until you have suds, and use that to wash your body. Just scrub your skin." But he needn't have spoken, apparently, since Bucky had already started doing just that. If he'd known how therapeutic a shower would be, he'd have had Bucky take one from the get go. There was no more conversation as Bucky rinsed and Steve got the rest of the conditioner out, nor as Steve wrapped him up in a towel. "I'm gonna get ya some fresh clothes, okay? I'll be right back." he started to leave, but right at the door, he could swear he heard a faint 'thank you' follow him out. But as he glanced back at Bucky, the other wasn't looking at him and he wondered if it had just been wishful thinking.

..........

Winter had subjected himself to the shower and the aid of the captain. If he wasn't going back to Hydra, then for the time being, it was best to see the functions of those who weren't weapons. It was just data to collect, any knowledge could be potentially useful, he reasoned. Although for what shampoo and conditioner would be useful for, he had no idea. Although when the captain mentioned that it might sting, he wondered if it would be an effect weapon for temporary vision impairment.

He hadn't wanted to close his eyes, he **did not** 'trust' the captain...but he was willing to grant logically that if the captain had wished to harm him, he'd had ample opportunity to do so. So he'd submitted to the other's ministrations and found himself...found himself...

_Bucky breathed a heavy sigh as he closed his eyes and let the hot water run over him. A fresh cut on his arm stung for a moment under the water, but overall, it eased his sore muscles and relieved him. The sounds of gunfire played back in his ears, Steve's voice shouting orders over the din, but he let the sound of water fill his ears as he relaxed for a moment. Another successful mission. He deserved a little break._

Winter found himself speaking, and he wasn't sure where the words came from exactly, but they felt... _right_.

When the captain left to get clothes, he heard that little voice in the back of his mind, he couldn't quite make it out but in the end, "Thank you," bubbled quietly from his lips. The words were almost meaningless to him, expressions of gratitude were foreign, but he understood the concept by basic definition. The ache in his chest had eased, and in fact, the proximity to the captain seemed to have made the burden less in this instance. He had felt strangely secure, much like when he was tucked away in his cryo-tube. It was a ridiculous notion, but still...

Winter stepped closer to the counter and glanced at himself in the mirror, it was slightly foggy and he wiped it away with a small hand. There was that unfamiliar face. A child's face. Not his. He wiped further at the mirror, only to pull back as he realized he was not alone.

"You're pathetic."

Winter's head jerked up as his expression immediately dead-panned and he whipped around in a defensive stance, but he saw no one.  He turned back to the mirror, and there he saw it again.

The Winter Soldier, in full attire save for the goggles and face mask, gazed coldly down at him.  "You failed your mission. You're a disgrace."

"Who are you?" he demanded, voice cold as he filtered through potential weapons. Was the mirror a two-way, or was it projecting an image? It couldn't be the Winter Soldier, because _he_ was the Winter Soldier. Someone was using his form.

"You're wrong. _I am_ the Winter Soldier. You're a fake. A defective by-product. You shouldn't exist." The Winter Soldier said in monotone.

"Show yourself." Winter snarled as he spun around and scanned the room, determined to find the source of the projection.

"You failed your mission. You ran. You're defective. You're _nothing_."

"Enough!" Winter hissed as he looked back at the mirror image. "You shouldn't exist. You don't deserve the title of Winter Soldier. You are _nothing_. Your mission is the only thing that matters. You are a _weapon_."

_"You are not a weapon, you're a human being!"_

The captain's voice rang in his ears.  "Stop talking."  And it wasn't clear if he was talking to the mirror image or the echo of Steve's voice in his head.

"Finish your mission, or die. You are not human. You are a weapon. Finish your mission. Kill Captain America. Your mission is the only thing that matters. Finish your mission."

" _Stop talking_!" Winter snarled as he slammed a soap holder into the mirror, and the glass shattered. Several pieces cut him as the glass rained down to reveal no secret room, it had only been a mirror. But the damage was done.

"Bucky! What the Hell!" Steve had returned and he crouched by Bucky's side quickly. "Come on, let's get you-"

Winter grasped a long, jagged piece of glass in his hand tight enough to make his skin bleed. He was heedless of it as he swung his arm around to Steve's neck. "Finish the mission!" he snarled, and slower though his child form was, Steve hadn't been prepared. The glass made it's way to Steve's neck-

_"Sergeant Barnes, you had your orders, your mission was to let Captain America act as a decoy for the bullets while you-"_

_"-Sorry, Corporal. My first mission is to protect my captain. Court martial me if you want, but that's just how it is." At his side, Steve wasn't sure whether to smile or smack Bucky, he appreciated the loyalty but it wasn't helping._

_"I could have you stripped of your rank and sent back to training." The corporal spat._

_"Well, you could try." Bucky replied archly. But his mission would still be the same._

-The glass clattered to the floor as Winter dropped it, and he suddenly crouched down with his hands on his head. "No...my mission...is to protect the captain."

_"Kill him! Steven Rogers is your target, finish it!"_

_"That's why you can't complete your mission. Because deep down, you **are** Bucky Barnes, and he would never hurt me. We're family."_

"I won't do it!" he snarled, and he started to slam his already bleeding fist into the glass on the ground, but a firm, strong hand caught him and Winter found himself pulled into a large, warm body. He struggled at first, on instinct, but then arms wrapped around him and held him tightly and Winter made a strangled noise as his...his _heart_ caught in his chest. Another instinct took over as he burrowed into that warmth, buried his face in the captain's chest and slid small arms around his waist. Winter could feel the captain's breath, heavy and warm on his neck as the captain seemed to try to embrace every inch of him.

"I've got you, Buck. You're safe. You're alright...no more hurting yourself, please...it's alright." Steve whispered. He wasn't sure of all that had happened, he'd nearly gotten stabbed in the neck, but then Bucky seemed to fight with himself and in the end...he spoke words that Steve remembered from long ago. Bucky tried to hurt himself, and Steve couldn't resist anymore. The desire to shield that fragile, broken form was too much and he didn't know how much of a weight off of his shoulders it would be to hold onto Bucky again until he felt the air rush out of him. "I've missed you, Buck." he whispered, expression pained as tears stung his vision. Bucky didn't reply, but he didn't object either as he kept nestled in Steve's embrace.

How much time passed, he wasn't sure, but eventually-reluctantly, he pulled Bucky off of him a bit though he kept his arms around him. "Are you alright?"

"Don't leave me again." Bucky's voice was almost a whisper, actually child-like as Bucky stared at Steve's chest. "It was so cold."  And Steve knew he wasn't referring to when he'd walked away for the clothes.  How long had he lain in the snow, still alive, as Steve hung on to the train and unknowingly left him behind?

A sob hitched in Steve's throat as he clutched Bucky, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to the other's forehead. "I won't. I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Bucky."

Bucky didn't reply, but of his own accord, he leaned forward again and buried himself against Steve. He again lost track of time as he held onto Bucky, but he realized at some point that Bucky's breathing had become a slow, steady rhythm and he glanced down to find Bucky asleep in his arms. Whether it was built up exhaustion, or whether the mental and emotional stress had gotten to him, Steve wasn't sure. But he was plenty willing to let him rest. Bucky still had the towel wrapped around him, and he scooped the small form and the clothes up as he brought him back to the bedroom and tucked him in.

Steve stood beside the bed a moment as he stared down at the sleeping form.

_"Don't leave me again...it was so cold."_

Tears stung his vision again as guilt assailed him anew. How many times had Bucky saved him? Risked his life for him? Devoted himself to Steve? If Steve had fallen off that train, he was half-certain Bucky would have jumped after him. Steve was a super-soldier. If he had jumped...would he have survived? Could he have saved Bucky?

Could he save him now?

Steve bent down and pressed another kiss to the small head. There were now some cuts that needed tending to, but he'd let the other rest for now. He gently brushed away a few strands of wet hair and then pulled up a chair beside the bed. Steve wouldn't make the same mistake twice, he wouldn't let Bucky down again.

He _couldn't_.

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

**You have an idea for how it's going to go down, and then the characters go and do whatever the Hell they want. Ah well. Rewatched Bucky scenes in the First Avenger, and a bit in Winter Soldier. I've read fanfic portrayals of the Winter Soldier where he's totally robotic or lacking any understanding, but if you pay attention to his speech patterns there is personality there. Such as when he says 'who the Hell is Bucky'. His child-like questioning of who the man on the bridge was. The look on his face when he's fighting Steve in the end. He does have a purely Winter Soldier side, but there's a fragmented Bucky side right there too. I'm really having fun dipping into his character, and I'm trying to stay true to what he'd be going through psychologically. That being said...Jeez, they didn't even make it to breakfast in this chapter like I'd planned, let alone what comes next. But they did have an emotional breakthrough...so...win? I'm trying to be accurate...but I also don't want to drag it out for ages and ages. Don't worry, I have lots of action planned [and more humor-i.e. Tony], not just drama. XD Also, Bucky thinks of himself as the Winter Soldier so when it's more his POV I used 'Winter' who thinks of Steve as 'the captain', but when it's more Steve's POV he thinks of him as Bucky and Steve. XD Reviews are hugs for my soul! Enjoy!~Witchy~**


	7. Pancakes and Heartaches

**Mmm...where to now?  Apollo's character will make a lot of sense once we actually get into him. I think. Which might be starting this chapter. But we'll see how much the characters run off on me again. XD And I wanted something cute and funny for this flashback. So there's a mild gay joke at Bucky's expense, back-in-the-day style. XD Enjoy!**

**~ ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

_"There he goes again. Can't walk five feet without a parade for Captain America. Poor fella. Most guys would light up like a Christmas tree to have all those girls hangin' on him, but he flushes up like a tomato." Dugan chuckled._

_Bucky watched Steve maneuver through the crowd. They'd had to pass through a civilian area on the way to their next mission. Sure enough, Steve seemed more embarrassed than please. Steve glanced back at them, and Bucky shot him a grin as he waggled his brows. Had he not been the oh-so-dignified Captain America, Bucky was sure Steve would stuck his tongue out. "Never was much of a ladies man." Bucky chuckled._

_"That's right, you grew up with him, didn't you?" Falsworth noted. "Must have been an adventure, growing up with Captain America."_

_"You could say that." Bucky agreed with a private smile. His shared history with Steve wasn't a secret exactly, but no one knew just how deep their past and bonds ran. Steve didn't exactly advertise how frail he'd used to be, even if he'd been touted as an engineered super-soldier. "Never a dull moment with Steve around." he said, fondly._

_"The way you say that..." Falsworth trailed off, he seemed thoughtful and amused._

_Bucky frowned. "What?"_

_"Il porte son cœur sur ses manches ...décoré avec des étoiles et de rayures."* Dernier sniggered._

_"Wait, what'd you say? What the Hell does that mean?" Bucky demanded, and the other men exchanged a glance and laughed good-naturedly at Bucky's expense._

.....

"Bouquet de fous..."*

Steve had had a clock to go off of this time, and around three hours had passed when Bucky, whose sleep seemed less fitful than on the previous occasions, finally woke up. And he was speaking French, if Steve didn't miss his mark. What kind of dream had he been having? How was he going to be?

Bucky's eyes found the ceiling, and then slid slowly over to Steve where they settled alongside a frown on Bucky's small lips.

"Hey, pal." Steve tried. He received no answer and felt his heart starting to sink when Bucky spoke quietly.

"Hello."

Steve's mouth fell open a little and he righted himself quickly. "Having a good dream?" he asked.

Bucky considered the question for a long moment, and just when Steve had resolved to change the subject, Bucky [after some internal debate] asked, "What makes a dream...good?"

_If this isn't progress, I'll eat my shield_. "It, uh...well...you don't...hurt afterwards?" he tried, not sure how else to explain it so that Bucky might understand.

Bucky seemed to consider that and then nodded slowly. There was an air of skepticism about him, but he replied anyway. "It was...good. There were men. People were...cheering for you. And then they laughed at...Bucky."

Steve wracked his brain for what memory Bucky could possibly be referring to. "Men...the...Howling Commandos? Other soldiers?"

Bucky stiffened at the word 'soldier', and Steve back-tracked. "Why were they laughing?"

Bucky fell silent a moment and Steve feared he'd slipped up, but Bucky finally replied. "I don't know. Bucky said...that there was never a dull moment with you around. Another man replied in French. Il porte son cœur sur ses manches ...décoré avec des étoiles et de rayures...And the other men laughed." he said, matter-of-factly.

Steve really had no idea what he was talking about, and while he'd known Bucky spoke Russian-the fluent French was news to him. "I don't speak French, Buck. What's that mean?"

Bucky searched for the words a moment and translated. "'He wears his heart on his sleeve, decorated in stars and stripes'."

Steve stared a moment before understanding dawned and he choked before he laughed a little.

Bucky frowned. "Why are you...laughing?"

Steve wasn't sure of a way to explain it simply that wouldn't make it sound potentially insulting or confusing. Homophobia was a big thing in those days, but that didn't mean they didn't joke about it with each other. Steve and Bucky's brotherhood was considered fair game for jokes by the team. He assumed all aspects of that would be lost on Bucky at present though. "They were...joking that y-...that Bucky...really liked me."

Bucky didn't seem to grasp the concept, and he certainly didn't get the bigger picture. "That he was loyal?" Bucky clarified. "Ah...yeah. That he was loyal." Steve agreed.

Bucky's frown deepened. "Why does that...make you laugh?"

"It's...just funny." He could tell Bucky didn't get that either. "Funny is...funny is..." How to describe it? "It's...amusing? Entertaining?"

That seemed to make some sense to Bucky. Or so Steve thought. "It's entertaining when a target believes they've escaped you, and then they find out they're wrong." The statement itself was plainitive, but the implications and the slight curl of Bucky's lip made Steve ill.

Steve felt his humor drain at that, and he struggled to find a response. "That's not...ah..." He bit his lip as Bucky stared at him, and he chose a different route. "It's a little late for breakfast." Since it was around three p.m. then. "But let's go out anyway, alright? Put on your clothes and we'll get going." Bucky continued to stare and Steve thought he might object, but strangely docile, Bucky threw off his blanket and began to do as asked.

Around fifteen minutes later, Steve nearly had Bucky out the door when he was met by Tony and Bruce. He glanced at Bucky and noticed a change instantly. The quiet, docile expression had been replaced with the deadpan chill of the Winter Soldier as Bucky's eyes narrowed on Tony and Bruce. _Son of a..._

"And you're going...where?" Tony queried, a glance between Steve and Bucky, who was currently wearing an 'I <3 Captain America shirt'. Bucky hadn't understood that either.

.......

"The writing on the shirt is senseless." Bucky said as he pulled the shirt on and regarded it with a frown.

"It's...ah...Tony's idea of a joke, I think...it's 'I heart Captain America'." As expected, Bucky didn't get that at all. "'I heart' is a way of saying...I love." Another miss. "Love is like... _like_. Loyalty." It was really a helluva lot more than that, but it'd be hard to explain even if Bucky weren't so...not emotionally understanding at the moment.

Bucky's air of skepticism had returned, and he continued to frown. "That symbol looks nothing like a heart."

Steve didn't want to dwell on the fact that Bucky probably knew chillingly well what a real heart would look like. "Yeah, guess they didn't know how to draw one. Let's go, okay, pal?" He didn't want to push his luck with calling the other 'Buck' or 'Bucky', but he hadn't objected to 'pal' so far.

................

"We're getting something to eat."

"There's food here. Or I can order-in. What're you in the mood for? Chinese? Pizza? I know a great Italian restaurant on-"

"-We're going out, Tony." Steve cut in firmly, and he stood a bit between Tony and Bucky as he looked down at Tony and made it clear he wasn't budging on the matter.

Tony frowned. "No, you're not, actually. Every time the hobo-soldier gets out, bad things happen. Property damage. Injured children. Headaches."

"Look at him! What do you think he can do like that?" Bucky bristled at that.

"Well, we know he couldn't hold Captain America with a knife at his throat-oh-wait...he did that. Crazy."

"He's getting better. He's remembering things." Steve said, and it half sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as Tony. But he shouldn't have to explain himself, he was an Avenger just as much as Tony. If he wanted to take charge of Bucky, Tony couldn't tell him what he could and couldn't do. "I've got it handled. So, please, get out of my way." He added the please to be a bit polite, but his tone made it clear he wasn't actually asking.

"Really? It's handled? Okay." Tony addressed Bucky. "Who are you?" Bucky didn't reply and Tony insisted. "Come on. Tell me, who are you? What's your name?" "Tony-"

"I'm the Winter Soldier." Bucky replied evenly.

Steve winced and tried not to let himself be disappointed. He couldn't expect Bucky to change overnight. They'd made progress as it was, progress he didn't want Tony ruining.

"Right! Gold star for you, kid." Tony looked back to Steve as he poked a finger into his chest. "The mini-pain stays, final answe-" he trailed off as Bucky suddenly jerked and slammed a small fist into a very sensitive area on Tony's body. Bucky may not have had his full strength, but it didn't take much right there.

Tony gasped and doubled over a bit, and Bucky made as if to punch him but Steve quickly grabbed his wrists. "Bucky! What are you doing?" he demanded.

Tony stood up straight and glared, clearly pissed. "What did I tell you? He's a little menace."

Bucky frowned and tried to jerk his wrists away from Steve. "He put his hands on you. I stopped him."

For a moment, nobody spoke. And then it dawned on Steve. Bucky was protecting him. Tony had poked Steve and Bucky had interpreted it as a threat...and protected him. The wave of warmth and relief that welled up within him was nearly enough to make his eyes water again. Aside from the fact that it showed definite improvement and hope for Bucky, it felt...it felt familiar. Like the old days. Bucky was always there for him. Steve released Bucky's wrists, and instead set a hand on Bucky's shoulder to give it a light squeeze. "Sorry I snapped at you, pal. I misunderstood. Thank you."

"You're _thanking_ him for hitting the family jewels? You're supposed to be rehabilitating him." Tony growled. Bruce chose then to speak. "And I think he's proven that he's doing very well at that. So we're going to back to our business, and letting them get on with theirs."

Bucky eyed Bruce, but there was clearly less chill in his eyes for Bruce than there was for Tony now. "That's not your call-" "-We're leaving. Or should I tell Pepper about Elaine?"

Tony blanched before his eyes narrowed. "Nothing happened! You know that!"

"I'm sure Pepper would agree." Bruce said, in a way that suggested she really wouldn't.

Tony scowled, and seemed more like the sullen child in the group than Bucky currently was. "Black-mailed in my own tower. Unbelievable. Fine." he turned on his heels and left, grumbling about traitors and the nerve of some people. Bruce watched him go and then addressed Bucky. "Despite what he seems like, he does care about Steve too. He wouldn't actually hurt him. Just so you know. Nor would I."

"I won't let him anyway." Bucky replied archly, and Bruce lifted a brow even as Steve's jaw yet again nearly dropped in astonishment.

"So...your mission is over?" Bruce chanced to ask.

Bucky stilled at that, and seemed to mull it over before he replied lowly. "I got my other mission first."

Bruce glanced at Steve who shot Bruce a puzzled look, and then just slightly shook his head and mouthed, _I'll tell you later_. Bruce nodded. "Enjoy your meal." he said kindly, and he flashed Bucky a smile. Bucky didn't smile back, but he didn't glare either, and Bruce for his part considered that progress as well as he headed off.

....

When Bucky and Steve had gotten down the block from Stark Tower, and he was certain there wouldn't be another interruption, he stopped to ruffle Bucky's hair. "Thanks for-"

Bucky jerked, and eyed Steve as he raised a hand instinctively.

Steve pulled his hands back, palms splayed. "Settle down, pal." he reassured the other quickly. "I was just ruffling your hair. No worries."

"..Why?" Something else he couldn't readily explain. "Well...if someone does something nice...or funny...or they've done a good job...or you just...feel affection for someone...you ruffle their hair."

Bucky seemed dubious again. "Why did you...ruffle," he said the word as though it were distasteful, "mine?"

Steve smiled. "You protected me back there, pal. I appreciate it. He really wouldn't have hurt me, but still...you did good. And it was nice. And I...I just care about you. That's a way to show it." It was a little more honest than he'd generally be, but he hoped that in explaining his feelings, being that open...maybe something would click with Bucky. Maybe he'd strike a chord.

Bucky didn't entirely seem to grasp the concept, but he seemed satisfied with Steve's answer at least. "I performed my mission well." he clarified, and Steve frowned.

"That's the second time you've said that...what mission?" Because last he'd checked, wasn't Bucky's mission to kill him?

Bucky's jaw tightened slightly, and his gaze slid to Steve a moment before it slid away. Steve waited for a reply, thinking that Bucky was mulling it over again, but eventually he realized he wasn't going to get an answer. "Why did you protect me?" Steve didn't want to question it, he didn't want to point it out if Bucky was trying to avoid it, but he had to understand. Because he'd hoped that it meant Bucky was shining through. Had he gone and convinced himself that protecting Steve was a mission somehow, without any emotional reason?

"Why does it matter?" Bucky finally hissed.

"It just...matters to me." Steve said softly.

Bucky stopped walking then, and this time, Steve could tell he really was just thinking it over. His gaze was narrowed on the ground and he frowned. When he looked back at Steve, the docile Bucky of the morning seemed gone, and it was a more chilling version that remained. More of the Winter Soldier. "I haven't decided yet."

"Decided what?"

"Which mission." Bucky said simply, and he turned to continue walking, which apparently marked the end of the conversation.

Steve knew that Bucky's mission had been to kill him. But when he'd 'protected' him from Tony, he'd mentioned he got his other mission first. If it led to Bucky protecting him, it couldn't have been from Hydra...so was it a mission that Bucky had?

Steve tried not to think about the fact that it meant Bucky was still considering killing him. He chose to focus on the glimmer of a connection he'd made, that the other had chosen the night before not to kill him. "Well, either way...I'm still going to protect you. No mission. Just because I want to."

Bucky gave Steve _the look_ , the almost deadpan one that managed to convey he was questioning Steve's sanity, but then he looked ahead and that was the end of that.

.............

When Bruce entered the lab after Tony, he hadn't been entirely sure what to expect. But it seemed that Tony felt the silent treatment was applicable punishment for black-mailing him in his own tower. Except that Tony should have known himself well enough to know that staying silent for any length of time exceeding five minutes was pretty much impossible.

"You shouldn't have done that." Tony said suddenly, although his gaze was still pointedly focused on his computer screen. Bruce, who had taken up residence on a nearby terminal, didn't favor him with a glance.

"I did though." Bruce said simply.

Tony's hand froze mid-swipe on the computer screen, before he slowly turned to face Bruce who obligingly turned. "I don't care what tricks Steve taught him. He's been here for what, three days? Most of it's he's spent unconscious. Because he tries to bash his head in. Or kill us. Or run away and kill other people. He's under some kind of who-the-Hell-knows-what, and you want to leave him with Captain Bleeding Heart as a chaperone?"

"And you'd rather keep him locked up, even if it decreases the probability of his recovery."

" _What probability_? You can feed that crap to Stars and Stripes, but don't think it'll fly with me. Even if he could get all his memories back, even if he could learn to process them and not be an emotionally deficient psychopath...what's he coming back to? The knowledge that he's spent the past seventy years of his miserable excuse for a life murdering people in cold-blood for a bunch of crazy terrorists? That he tried kill his best friend? That every one he ever knew or loved, except the best friend he tried to kill, is dead? It'll be PTSD on steroids."

"He can't help what they made him." Bruce said quietly, and tactless Tony didn't get the hint.

"You people keep saying that. Yeah, boo hoo, torture victim, tragic backstory, much sad. Doesn't change what he is. The Winter Soldier is a monster, you think good ole Bucky Barnes wants to wake up to that?"

"I think even a monster could find something worth living for, and changing for. I would hope so, anyway." Bruce's gaze slid back to the computer screen as his jaw clenched slightly, and Tony _finally_ made the connection.

"You're nothing like him." Tony said immediately.

Bruce smiled mirthlessly. "I suppose not. I brought my monster on myself. His was forced on him. I can still be me sometimes, but him? He's been held under water for seventy years."

"But you haven't-"

"Haven't what? Gone on cold-blooded killing sprees? And if the Hulk had been inclined to that sort of thing, would I be another monster for you to lock up?" "Don't be so dramatic, Jolly." Tony retorted, but his tone was too sharp and too quick. It was defensive and uncomfortable.  Bruce knew he'd hit a nerve.

"Don't change the subject." Bruce replied evenly.  Tony frowned at him then, and after a moment, shrugged as he said coolly. "It doesn't matter who it is. If someone falls off the bandwagon, I'll do what I've gotta do."

The pair stared at each other before Bruce's mirthless smile widened. "And finally, honesty." Bruce started to turn away, and Tony's expression twitched.

"Hey, we aren't finished, these codes-" Bruce left without a word and Tony was left to stare after him with a frown. Bruce tried not to be hurt, tried to remember that it was Tony and he couldn't be held to the same standards as...people who weren't Tony. And while he knew Tony wasn't as cold as he made out to be, he did believe that Tony would lock him up in a heart beat if it came to that. Tony was many things, forgiving not being one of them. And while Bruce would want to be stopped if he ever grew truly monstrous...Tony's complete lack of empathy about the helplessness of that situation was...troubling.

....

Back in the lab, Tony had been determined to ignore the black-mailing traitor, but he found himself distracted and agitated, and resolved to calm himself by going for a little drive.

And possibly drinking copious amounts of alcohol. And possibly attempting to spy on Stars and Stripes and the hobo-soldier. And of course, none of this had to do with the fact that Bruce was clearly upset with him. Why would Tony care about something trivial like another person's feelings?

He was just...thirsty.

........................

Steve had tried asking Bucky where he might want to go, he had tried asking what he might like to eat, he'd even told him to simply pick a place. But Bucky still didn't grasp [or want to accept] the concept of 'want' and he didn't seem to want to make a decision. So in the end, they wound up in a hole-in-the-wall diner on the corner. Which led to another decision Bucky was unwilling to make.

"What do you wanna eat? You can have anything." he pointed to the menu in Bucky's hands encouragingly.

Bucky glanced at it, at least, but in the end he said simply. "It doesn't make a difference. I'm not hungry."

Steve knew there was no way Bucky wasn't hungry, he just didn't know how to register his physical wants and needs very well. "Come on, pal, pick something." he urged, hoping that the act would give him another break through the way the shower had.

But instead, Bucky's lips curved into a frown as he pointedly shoved the menu towards Steve. "Stop calling me pal...and I'm not hungry."

Steve had wondered how long he'd get away with that. "Look, I'm not calling you Winter Soldier. If you don't want 'Bucky' or 'pal', fine, but I have to call you something."

"You really don't." Bucky replied, and there was a note of sarcasm in his voice that so very Bucky. "How about James? You hated it before but...well, it is your name." Steve could see the beginnings of protest on Bucky's lips, and he held up a hand. "Even if you think you're the Winter Soldier now, you were him. You have his memories. You saw the memorial. Even if you're...not Bucky...you admit you were born James Barnes, don't you?"

"I never said that."

Steve wasn't sure why every time he gained a little ground, he lost more than he'd started with. "You came from somewhere, you didn't just appear in the lab one day. You know that, don't you?"

"Obviously." Bucky growled. "But it doesn't matter where I came from. Here and now, I'm a weapon. I am the Winter Soldier. Whatever game you're playing, it doesn't change that." Steve took the words like a punch to the gut. Bucky was speaking coherently, he was replying with full sentences and awareness and not trying to slam his head into walls. But everything he was saying was so...wrong. Before he could reply, the waitress came to take their orders. For himself, he ordered a burger that he was pretty sure he didn't really have the stomach for anymore. And he ordered Bucky's on a whim. Pancakes. Because Bucky had liked them so much. Although looking at him now, it was getting harder to see him again.

........

Winter had woken up as he'd come to expect waking up. To the face of Steven Rogers. The previous night's events flitted through his brain. Was it all real? He remembered clinging to the captain, he couldn't seem to pull himself away. Winter had possibly had a chance to finish him, to complete his mission, and he had chosen not to. Why? Was it the...memories? Memories that he couldn't claim as his own. They were in his head, they were of a man with his face, but that man was a stranger to him. How could he say that they were his memories? Why should they hold any meaning or value to him?

And yet, he hadn't killed Steven Rogers. Not yet.

That being said, he had resolved that the captain didn't actively seek his demise. If this was all some scheme to manipulate him, the captain was doing an excellent job of playing _complete idiot_ about it. He had never met someone like the captain. Steven Rogers was naive and idealistic, full of unnecessary sentiments and gestures and expressions that Winter couldn't begin to identify. And he asked such pointless, annoying questions. He had asked about Winter's mission, been clarified on the fact that Winter still considered killing him a mission of his, and yet...he claimed to want to protect him?

_Want_. Another word he understood by basic definition, but attributed no meaning to. There was no want for a weapon. Wants were driven by biological desires and whims of the mind, they were fleeting, inconsequential things that distracted from missions. They were unnecessary for him, while the captain seemed to be ruled by them.

In the meanwhile, he'd begun to notice things had changed for himself though. The crippling pain he'd experienced before, the black outs, the inconsistent reality...it had stopped. There were still voices and flashbacks, _memories_ , and that...incident the night before with the imposter Winter Soldier but...still. His mind felt clearer than it had even when he'd been on his missions, when Hydra had shocked him clean of the _unnecessary_ things. Thoughts were less systematic, and he found himself... _pondering_.

"He'll take the pancakes." The captain ordered for him, after he'd given up on trying to make Winter choose. What was the purpose of variety? Meals should be eaten strictly as necessary to maintain proper nourishment and body function. It seemed so pointless to waste time considering something meaningless like... _what food_ you _want_.

And then silence descended on the table as the waitress left, and Winter found himself the receiver of a stare that made him...what was the word? Uncomfortable.

_Awkward_. Said that niggling voice in the back of his mind. He ignored it.

Winter wasn't sure what the captain's aim was, but he stared right back without blinking. If he thought to force Winter to make some admission, he was sorely mistaken.

After a moment, and an expression that made Winter think the captain might actually be looking for something, the captain opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by the chime of a cellular device. The captain seemed startled and checked the caller I.D. before he shot a glance at Winter. Was he seeking permission? Why? "Your phone." Winter said simply, because all of the captain's silent, strange behavior was becoming tiresome.

The captain seemed to hesitate, and he glanced back towards the door of the diner and then it clicked for Winter.

"I won't attempt to escape. It wouldn't benefit me." And it wouldn't. Were he in his body, it might be a different story. He had nowhere to go in a planned sense, but he could always find something. As he was now though, it would be...ill-advised.

His answer seemed to disappoint the captain somehow, which was yet another in the long list of things that made no sense where Captain America was concerned.

"Then...I'll be right back." The phrasing made it sound like a question. Winter just stared at him, and finally the captain walked to the front of the diner to call the person back. He noted that the captain kept glancing back at him though, which was to be expected. Why should he believe anything Winter said? It's not the first time I've lied to him.

The thought came unbidden, that niggling voice but stronger. A memory came to him.

_"Bucky! What the Hell? What happened to you?" Steve's hand cupped Bucky's cheek as he looked the other over in concern. He had gone with Agent Carter for a meeting with Stark, he'd been gone overnight. When he got back to camp and found Bucky, Bucky was sporting a cut cheek and a black eye._

_Bucky pulled away and gave Steve a wry grin. "Nothin' I feel like sharin' with my Captain."_

_Steve frowned, not deterred by his attempt at deflection. "Bucky..." his tone was stern._

_Bucky rolled his eyes and clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Relax, Rogers. I had a little disagreement with another officer. It's handled."_

_Disapproval was obvious in Steve's eyes. "Picking fights, really? What for this time?"_

_There was a strange twist to Bucky's lips as he replied. "He took something of mine. I wanted it back. Like I said, it's handled."_

_"We're in a war, Buck. We shouldn't be fighting each other." Steve chastised._

_Bucky hated that as much as he loved it. Stupid, naive, goody-two shoes Steve. Loyal, brave, selfless Steve. He didn't want to be told off about his duty, he didn't want Steve's idealistic views thrown in his face. But still, he was glad that becoming Captain America hadn't changed Steve, glad that he was still above the muck and the war. That was the whole point, wasn't it? That was why Bucky especially didn't mind getting his hands dirty: because it meant Steve didn't have to. "Yeah, yeah, Captain Cuddles." he drawled, and Steve's expression flickered annoyance even as his lips twitched in amusement. "Now can we go get some breakfast? I'm starvin'." His voice was playful, his expression light, but it was all for show. All for Steve's benefit. And even though technically he hadn't lied, he hadn't told the truth either-not like Steve had wanted, it was the same as a lie._

_But it was necessary._

........

_Bucky drew back as the knife cut across his cheek, and a quick fist found it's way to his face. The prisoner had been tied up, supposedly disarmed but apparently that wasn't the case. He'd snuck into camp to steal sensitive documents, and although he'd been quickly caught, there were still a few missing. Naturally, the army wanted them back, and they wanted all the information they could glean out of the man. It wasn't a mission for a nobody, but it wasn't a mission for Captain America either. Because Steve wouldn't approve of something like this. Steve wasn't an 'ends justifies the means' kind of guy. Which was okay, because Bucky could be that for him. He could be whatever Steve needed. Whatever it took to keep Steve's hands clean. Steve was the hero. And like he'd said, this was a war. You did whatever you could to win._

_"Now, let's try this again." Bucky said as he brandished the knife and slammed his heel into the man's chest hard enough that he heard a rib crack. Bucky smiled grimly as he twirled the knife in his hand._

_And Bucky kind of liked being the bad guy._

A pair of fingers snapped in front of Winter's face, and he instinctively grabbed the wrist before him. He released it as he found Captain America staring at him from across the table. The phone call was over, apparently, and their food had arrived. Winter dimly realized he had heard the waitress say something, but he'd been occupied. All information he'd gotten on _James Buchanan Barnes_ indicated that he was probably much like Steven Rogers, or so he had figured. But the images that had just passed through his mind...

"Bucky." Winter said, and the name was strange on his tongue. The captain had said something, or asked something, but he ignored it. He seemed startled by the name. "Would he torture someone?"

" _What_?"

"Would James Barnes torture someone?" he repeated, a bit impatiently.

The captain's mouth had fallen slightly open, his eyes wide as he stared at Winter. Why in the Hell couldn't the captain ever respond without theatrics? Was it such a hard question? "Why would you ask that?"

"Answer the question." Winter hissed, he had no patience for trying to understand the captain's idiosyncrasies now.

"No." The captain answered with a furrowed brow, indignantly. "Bucky...Bucky wasn't... _no_. He wouldn't."

And for some reason, the answer made Winter's lips curl. He recognized the gesture, although it was foreign on his face. A small smile. "Your Bucky and I have something in common."

The captain didn't look pleased by the remark, and he asked cautiously. "What's that?"

"We do what's necessary." And there was a wealth of meaning in that beyond what the captain would understand.

..........

" _...Here and now, I'm a weapon. I am the Winter Soldier. Whatever game you're playing, it doesn't change that._ "

Steve wanted to scream, or to hit something, or to shake Bucky until he woke up and remembered who and what he was. He had known it wouldn't be an easy road to get Bucky back, but he hadn't realized how painful it would be for him as well. Bucky was tearing into him, unintentionally, but that's how it felt.

He just stared at Bucky, he searched for a hint of the one he'd seen last night. The one who had clung to him, and asked him not to leave. The one who needed him. But all he saw were cold eyes gazing out of a face that didn't suit them at all.

His phone rang, and it rocked him like a bullet. That was right, in addition to the insane scenario he found himself in, he was still in the real world. The caller I.D. came up Black Widow. Natasha changed phone numbers frequently, but Tony had given her a device that let her scramble her number to appear the same when she called him, and made him able to call her back on an otherwise unlisted number. Or something along those lines. Technology wasn't really his forte. He didn't want to talk to her in front of Bucky, because the conversation would end up involving him and he didn't want to set the other off...but he couldn't just leave him. Bucky picked up on the dilemma quickly.

Steve felt another wave of disappointment though. Bucky wouldn't escape...because it wouldn't benefit him. Not because he cared about Steve, or wanted to regain his memories. "Then...I'll be right back." He was still cautious, and even as he made his way to the door, he kept an eye on Bucky who just kept watching him with that blank, unnerving stare.

Steve called back, and Natasha answered on the second ring.

_"How is he doing?"_

Well, apparently she knew about Bucky already. He wasn't really surprised, nor was the lack of greetings. Business first, then. "Better than when I found him. Hello, by the way."

_"Hi, Steve."_ she drawled, her wry brand of humor making it's way into her tone before it became more serious again. _"What was he like when you found him?"_

How did one describe mindless self-abuse, an unhinged mind, violent mood swings, and frequent murder attempts?

"He wasn't all there." Steve supplied.

Natasha's silence on the other end suggested that she was less than impressed with his answer. _"And now?"_

"He's...slightly there? But, something happened." he didn't wait for a reply as he continued. "He was sedated after he...went a little a crazy. Went in to check on him and somehow...he's, uh, about eight years old."

More silence, and then. _"He thinks he's eight years old?"_

Steve inhaled through his teeth. "No...he's... _really_ eight years old. Tony and Bruce looked him over, but they can't figure it out. But he's physically regressed...and he'd had serious brain damage as...the Winter Soldier. Now his head's fixed, apparently. But how or why, or how long...no idea."

Natasha processed that. _"Loki?"_

He was the first suspect on everyone's list it seemed, but not without reason. "No, according to Tony, he's in an Asgardian prison."

_"...I have to finish something up here...but I should be in your neck of the woods tomorrow night."_

"You're coming here?" Steve was surprised.

_"That is what I just said, I believe."_ she drawled.

Steve snorted lightly. Natasha could be infuriating and wonderful all in the same instance. "Missing your favorite 'fossil'?"

_"Something like that."_ Steve could hear the smile in her voice. It became something like concern when she next spoke. _"Be careful, Steve...I know he's important to you...but...whatever you think it's like for him, whatever you think he went through...it's worse. Trust me."_

Her words were blunt, and little comfort, but if she was saying it then it was probably true. It was a warning, not unlike Tony's. "I'll do my best." he said dutifully.

_"Tomorrow then."_ And the phone clicked off.

Steve stared down at it a moment as her words echoed in his ears, and when he returned to the table he found Bucky in a bit of a trance. Another flashback, then? He snapped his fingers in front of his face when Bucky didn't seem to come out of it, and the other grabbed his wrist. What he said next stunned him. What he asked mildly horrified him.

He'd had a flashback, and suddenly he was asking if Bucky would torture someone? And then he smiled, just a little one, and it made Steve's stomach turn. There was nothing kind or reassuring in the smile, it was a little cruel if anything, and still more unsuited for the child's face Bucky was currently wearing.

"We do what's necessary." Bucky said, and Steve felt a chill down his spine. He knew what the Winter Soldier's necessary tended to imply, and that he would feel he and Bucky shared that in common...it was more than he could handle dwelling on at the moment.

Steve spared himself a response by eating a french fry and then motioning to Bucky's plate. "Your pancakes are getting cold. And that cup there is syrup, you pour it on them." When Bucky's little smile become a frown, he smiled encouragingly, and he knew it didn't reach his eyes. "Give 'em a try. Every body likes pancakes."

"I'm not 'every body'." Bucky replied simply, and Steve had the strangest sense that he was...annoyed by Steve's lack of response to what he'd said. But even so, Bucky picked up the syrup and after a long moment, poured a little drizzle on. He eyed his fork like it might attempt to bite him, and eventually took a bite.

Steve lifted his brows questioningly, startled when Bucky suddenly spit his bite back out and shoved the plate away. "It's poisoned." he hissed, and his eyes were set in a glare.

"What? Poison? Bucky-ah-...there's no way."

Bucky started to rise and his gaze was fixed on the kitchen. Steve realized this was about to escalate to a place he definitely did not want it to go. "Sit down!" he said quickly. "It's fine, I'll prove it." he jabbed his own fork into the pancakes and took a bite. Bucky's eyes widened in the first alarm he'd yet seen in them. "Idiot!" Bucky leaned across the table to try to snatch his fork, but Steve pulled out of his reach. Steve chewed slowly, because despite his confidence that it wasn't poisoned, well...just in case. But it tasted fine...great, actually, if a little sweet. Maybe they made their own syrup-...it dawned on him. "It's not poison." he said firmly.

"I could _taste_ it." Bucky snapped.

Steve shook his head. Now that he thought on it, sweet things were used to cover over poison anyway, but he felt that wasn't actually the problem. "It's sugar. It's sweet. That's what you taste. You just aren't used to sweet things."

Bucky's brow furrowed just slightly as he frowned. "Sweet." he repeated the word as if to divine it's meaning. "It's _supposed_ to taste like that?" Steve nodded, and Bucky slowly sat back in his seat, although he didn't seem to take Steve at his word.

_"Ugh, that's disgusting, Buck. You're gonna hurl."_

_"D'n'kn'kit'til'yu'tryit." Bucky said, [don't knock it till you try it] through a mouthful of food. Bucky had made a little bonus, and he'd decided to treat he and Steve to breakfast at a corner diner. Bucky's pancakes had been drowned in syrup. And then chocolate sauce. And then whipped cream. And finally a couple of strawberries._

_"You're insane." Steve said firmly as he ate his own significantly less murdered pancakes._

_Bucky grinned and got a big gooey bite on his fork as he held it out to Steve. "Say, ahh~"_

_"I'm not eating that."_

_"C'moooon." Bucky urged, and Steve closed his mouth tightly. "For me, Stevie?" Bucky gave his best puppy dog eyes, and Steve mock-scowled before he huffed and gave in._

_He coughed and scrunched his nose. It wasn't bad, per se, but... "What are those pancakes doing in my glob of sugar?"_

_Bucky rolled his eyes and lifted a brow at Steve, before the pair dissolved into laughter._

"...It's missing something." Bucky muttered, and Steve's brow furrowed slightly. "Something else goes on it."

Steve recalled that Bucky had a fondness for overly drenched pancake. He hadn't thought that would be of interest to him as he was now though. He'd guessed wrongly. Steve caught the waitress' attention and ordered chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and strawberries. In the meanwhile, Bucky had snatched one of the honey packets from the table and poured it over his pancakes with an almost curious expression.

When the other toppings arrived, Bucky said not a word as he promptly turned his plate of pancakes into a pile of liquid sugar and fruit. It was a horrifying sight, but Bucky seemed oddly pleased and he stared at the plate for a long moment, as if satisfied that he'd accomplished...that.

Steve had been tempted to stop him, because if he thought a little syrup was poison, there was no way he'd like what he was creating. But it was one of the very few things Bucky had taken an interest in, and he wasn't going to complain. "That's...quite the creation you've got there." he finally said.

Bucky's lips twitched just slightly, and Steve wondered if he'd just seen the brush of a smile. Is he that happy about pancakes? There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to Bucky's recovery. One minute he was the psychotic Winter Soldier, the next, he was...Bucky? A kid? A stranger?

Steve lost his train of thought as Bucky dug into his pancakes suddenly like they were going out of style. When he finished, Bucky stared at his plate silently. "...Do you want me order more?"

Bucky's eyes flicked up towards him, narrowed slightly.

_Ah, that's right. 'Want' is a taboo word._ "Are you still hungry?"

"I was never hungry." Bucky replied, as if he hadn't just scarfed down a full plate of smothered pancakes.

And that actually gave Steve a bit of a flashback. Because the Bucky of many years past had said nearly the same thing, for a reason that was equally heart-breaking in it's own way.

_Fourteen year old Steve had done his best not to think about how hungry he was. His mother's check had been less than usual, and a couple of unexpected bills had come up. They had stretched the meager food they had thin, and Steve didn't want to take from his mother. So he pretended that he'd eaten more than he had. A fact that didn't go unnoticed by fifteen-year old Bucky at school that day._

_"Here." Bucky handed him his lunch sack. A sandwich and an apple. "And you better eat it all." he warned._

_"I can't take your lunch, Buck. I'm fine." Steve had tried to push it back._

_"I'm not hungry. Wasn't gonna eat it anyway." Bucky said, and they both knew he was lying._

_"I don't need charity, Bucky." Steve muttered, startled when Bucky whacked his head._

_"It ain't charity, you punk. I want ya to have it. Now eat the damned food before I shove it down your throat." Bucky growled._

_Steve blinked and accepted it, and despite himself, gave in to the gnawing hunger and scarfed it down. He had finished the sandwich and was halfway through the apple when he heard Bucky's stomach growl loudly, and felt guilt like a stone in his stomach. "Bucky-"_

_"Let's say Friday we go to the lake. Sound good to you?" Bucky interrupted as if Steve hadn't spoken._

_Steve knew Bucky wasn't going to admit it, or let Steve thank him properly. He wouldn't ask for accolades for going hungry so that Steve wouldn't. And that was just another reason Bucky was a better best friend than he'd ever known could exist. Steve smiled through his feelings as he inclined his head. "Whatever you want, Buck." And Bucky's warm, broad grin was yet another undeserved reward._

"I've heard that line before." Steve murmured, and Bucky's brow furrowed slightly. "You...Bucky would give me his food sometimes. A lot more times than he should have, actually. He'd let himself go hungry if it meant I wouldn't. And he...if he thought it was a pain...he never showed it. He'd just grin at me, like it was the most natural thing in the world." Steve chuckled, a mixture of fond nostalgia and bitter longing. He missed that Bucky, so bad it hurt. Bucky with his quick-grin, and stupid jokes, and jerk attitude. Bucky with his gruff kindness, and his gentleness in taking care of Steve, and the soft-heart that only Steve ever got to see.

"Why would he do that?" Bucky asked, a slight frown on his lips.

"...Because he was a hero." Steve said sincerely.

Bucky tensed, and there was a raw look on Bucky's face all of the sudden, something almost vulnerable, perhaps pained. "You really mean that?" And it didn't sound like the Winter Soldier, it sounded like _Bucky_.

Steve locked gazes with Bucky. "With all my heart." he said softly, and he watched Bucky's fingers clench on the table as he grimaced.

"He thought that about you too...Bucky did...he...he was..." Bucky's eyes closed a moment as his expression scrunched and he searched for the words, words he didn't quite understand. "He was...proud of you. I remember that a little. I think." And he didn't want to, he didn't understand why his heart was suddenly in so much pain, but without really hurting. It just...there was too much...too much... _feeling_.

Steve swallowed hard. "I was proud of him too." he said, voice gone hoarse as he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of Bucky's admission. "Still am."

That seemed to confuse him. "But he's dead."

Steve inhaled sharply as he thought of an answer. "If you love someone, you always...carry a little of them in here." he tapped his chest above his heart. "Even if they're gone...you carry them with you. I know that probably doesn't make sense to you right now, but...believe me. He's still here." And in more ways than a spiritual sense, he hoped.

"Love." he echoed, as he recalled Steve's earlier definition as 'like' and 'loyalty'. "You...love...him?" He said the words slowly, as if they were too impossible to even speak.

Steve smiled sadly, but fondly as well. "Like a brother. Always have. He was a jerk, but...he's family."

_Christmas morning, the year Steve's mother had died and Bucky had taken it upon himself to bring Christmas into Steve's apartment, he received several presents. His favorite was the brown-leather sketchbook. Bucky had bought the paper, but made the rest of it himself. He'd even etched Steve's name on the front near the bottom. Bucky always did have a knack for that kind of thing. The fact that Bucky made it-made it worth more than anything else._

_Steve wasn't sure what he could say to convey his gratitude properly. He settled for semi-tackling Bucky as he gave him a tight hug. Steve had actually caught him off guard, and Bucky jumped slightly before his arms enveloped Steve's small body and held him tight. He fended off the December chill better than any blanket could. "Thanks, Buck." he whispered. "Merry Christmas."_

_Bucky's expression was soft in a way that no one else would get to see. He reserved it for Steve. Bucky held the smaller boy tightly as he let his lips brush against Steve's head a moment. His mother was gone, but he wouldn't let Steve brood. "Nothin' to thank me for. We're family." he murmured, because he was determined to make sure that Steve remembered that. He wanted Steve to rely on him, he didn't want him to think he had to go it alone. "Merry Christmas, Stevie."_

Winter felt his breath catch in his chest, and he found Steve-no-the captain staring at him with wide eyes. "What now?" he snapped, but he found he couldn't put any annoyance behind it. The captain hesitated, and then wiped his cheek with his hand in an expectant way that suggested Winter should do the same. Winter frowned and wiped at his cheek, startled when his hand came back wet. He rubbed at both cheeks then, and his eyes, and yet again there were thin lines of water on his hands. Water from his eyes. _Tears_. He knew of tears and crying via his litany of victims. But he had never experienced them for himself to his knowledge. Why was he now? "Why are my eyes leaking?" he demanded of Steve. Because he refused to call them tears, or say that he had cried. This was clearly some mistake. Or proof that he was truly defective.

But Steve just smiled. "Because you're human. It's what we do."

"It's not what I do."

"It's what Bucky would do." Steve expected a denial. A fit of rage. A glare. Smashed plates. But instead, Bucky just stared at him with those too-old, too-cold eyes.

"...But I'm not Bucky."

"And that's okay." Steve said softly as he reached a hand across the table slowly, and gently set his hand on Bucky's. The other stiffened, but even when Steve's fingers closed around the hand, he didn't move. "You're still my friend. That's what matters. I'll take you however I can get you."

Bucky's hand clenched beneath Steve's before it turned upwards in his grasp to clasp his hand back. He stared at their hands a moment, as if trying to decipher the gesture. And then he met Steve's gaze. "The Winter Soldier's mission is to kill you." he said simply, and Steve sighed, but Bucky went on. "Bucky's mission is to protect you."

Steve's eyes widened slightly at those words, and suddenly Bucky's behavior from before made sense. "...Which mission...do you want to follow?"

Winter's gaze flitted to the table again, where their hands were clasped, and his small grip tightened. "...You're all I have." His only mission. The only person who had ever tried to _not hurt_ him...to not... _control_ him. If he killed him, maybe the pain in his chest would go away. Maybe he'd stop thinking about unnecessary things. But if he protected him...

"You'll always have me."

The waitress chose that moment to return, and she fixed them with an odd look that gave Steve a funny feeling she'd really misunderstood the situation. He didn't want to let go of Bucky's hand, but he didn't want the cops called either. Steve gave Bucky's hand a tight squeeze before he pulled it away and paid his tab. He had made a connection, he was sure of it, he had struck the same chord he'd hit the night before and he wanted to strike while the iron was hot. Steve wanted to turn the ember into a flame that wouldn't just burn out.

_"This isn't payback, is it?"_

_"Now why would I do that?"_

The words echoed in Steve's head suddenly, unbidden, and an idea struck him. "Come on, pal, we're leaving. There's some place I wanna take you."

Bucky frowned slightly, years of instincts honed to be suspicious kicking in. "A place?" And Steve grinned.

"We're going to Coney Island."

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

**Frrrrriiiick. It's 1:00am...I need to be up at 5:50am for a 12 1/2 hour shift...I haven't slept much the other nights either. XD...But it's so addictive. ;-; This chapter took a bit, Bucky didn't want to cooperate and it made Steve antsy. And I think I fell half-asleep some five or so times near the second half of this. Hopefully it's all coherent. At some point I snapped back to reality and the floodgates of fluff and brotherly bonding poured out of me. The characters went and did what they wanted again. Since this chapter was supposed to have the whole Coney Island bit and an intro to some of the action. Ah well. We've got feels. And breakthroughs. Some Widow. Tony and Bruce actually got some air-time, with more to come. [I really...like Tony and Bruce, whether as lovers or besties. They're just suited. XD] Thanks for all the support, people! You keep me writing! [Well past my self-imposed bedtime. XD] Reviews are like verbal hugs...Enjoy!~Witchy~**


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